Bring Me to Life
by Lia76
Summary: Sequel to "Burden." Sam makes a painful journey down memory lane to answer the question that he has been struggling with for so long...Is he good or is he evil? The aftermath is difficult for both brothers. The final part "Mind Games" is in progress!
1. Open Your Eyes Again

**Chapter 1: Open Your Eyes Again**

Dean slammed the button and waited for the ICU's automatic doors to open. He stepped inside and saw about ten private rooms circling a large nurse's station, all with glass walls allowing unobstructed views to the patients inside. He scanned across the area until he saw his little brother in the sixth room to the right. Everything was quieter here and Dean did not run this time, feeling as if any sudden movements could cause someone to immediately go into cardiac arrest.

He paused in the doorway to his brother's room and swallowed, willing himself not to be discouraged by the doctor's words. Sam was sleeping, a heart monitor nearby beeping a steady rhythm. A clear solution of some kind in a bag hung on a tall metal poll and dripped into his brother through an IV. Dean eased himself into the nearby chair, grunting softly.

_"Sammy, can you open your eyes again for me, honey? There is so much I must tell you," he heard his mom say, her voice sounding closer with each word._

Sam stirred and his eyelids fluttered open.

_He could clearly see her standing at the foot of his bed. She still looked as beautiful and as young as ever, doomed to be forever clad in the long white nightgown she was wearing that night she was murdered by the yellow-eyed demon. After a moment, it registered in Sam's mind that he was in a hospital, but answers to other important questions continued to evade him. Although he felt no pain, it was so difficult to stay awake, let alone think, and he struggled to stay focused on her glowing face._

"Sam?" Dean asked, placing his hand on Sam's arm, careful to not disrupt anything.

Sam's pale face showed no emotion, as if it was made out of stone. He did not answer Dean and his eyes, although partially open now, did not look at him. They didn't seem to be looking at anything. Raw fear began to form in the pit of Dean's stomach.

_"Everyone is so very proud of you, Sammy," she said as she moved to the side of his bed opposite of Dean and leaned down to inches from his face. "The demons have been destroyed and the portal to hell remains closed. Dean and Bobby are safe too." _

_She sighed before continuing. "I'm so sorry to tell you that your journey is not yet over. Your father was right. The Colt can only kill what is truly evil, and you were brought back to life. But there is still someone who is not yet sure if you are good or if you are evil. He has the power to take away your life again and this time it would be forever," she explained as she caressed his face._

_"Who?" Sam thought, aware that she would understand him even without speaking the word._

"Talk to me Sam, please. I'm okay. You're okay. Everybody's fine now," Dean said reassuringly.

_"The one whose opinion matters most. You," Mary said before she__ disappeared into a bright light. _

Sam still did not answer. What could be wrong if Sam was alive? Dean asked himself again. He was _so_ afraid of the answer, but whatever it was, he _would_ find it.

Sam's eyes closed again moments before a dark haired doctor, who looked to be in his late thirties, entered the room.

"My name is Dr. Jonathan Casey. And your name, Doctor?" he asked with a smile, extending his hand to Dean..

"Oh. Uh," Dean stuttered as he shook his hand. "Dean. Dean Ellicot. I…my clothes were a mess so they said I could have these," he answered, not quite as smoothly as he wanted.

"No problem. This is your brother, Samuel?" the doctor asked, already knowing the answer but recognizing the importance of establishing rapport with his patient's family members.

"Sam," Dean corrected him. "What's wrong with him? The other doctor said the surgery went well, but…" Dean looked at his brother. "He wouldn't talk to me. Wouldn't even _look_ at me."

"I've reviewed his chart. If I recall correctly, you both stopped a robbery at the Abbey during which your brother was shot and you sustained minor injuries. The criminals were never caught?" the doctor asked, motioning for Dean to sit down again as he leaned against a nearby counter.

"That's right," Dean said, remembering the story he, Bobby and the monk had crafted for the police. "But what's wrong with my brother?" Dean asked again, still standing and anxious for the doctor to get to the point already.

"Honestly, we don't know. We have not yet found any physical reason for your brother's unresponsiveness, for the lack of a better term. But Sam's already proven how much of a fighter he is and I'm confident that his condition will improve. Most people, even if they can be resuscitated from death, sustain significant brain damage. We do know that Sam's brain functioning appears normal. Therefore, I have recommended a psychiatric consult to begin to…"

"My brother is NOT crazy!" Dean yelled, angrily swiping the items on the nearby table to the floor with a crash.

He was _so _sick of getting the run around. This doctor didn't seem to know anything more than the one in the ER.

"Mr. Ellicot, please. Let me finish. No one thinks your brother is crazy, but he may be traumatized. Addressing mental health issues is _as_ important as treating physical ones. It's too early to tell, but he may be exhibiting beginning signs of PTSD, or Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. The diagnostic criteria for PTSD, according to _Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders-IV_, are stressors listed from A to F. Most notably, the stressor criterion A is divided into two parts. In a nutshell, the first requires that the person experienced an event or events that involved actual or threatened death or serious injury to self or others. The second requires that the person's response involved intense fear, helplessness, or horror. Symptoms of PTSD can include general restlessness, insomnia, aggressiveness, depression, dissociation, emotional detachment, and nightmares.What you and Sam have been through certainly seems to fit the definition, and I'd like him to be evaluated by a psychiatrist," The doctor responded calmly, used to all kinds of reactions from distraught family members.

Dean glared at the doctor for a moment while deciding if he was worthy of caring for his little brother. The doctor's glance did not waiver from Dean's for second during this period of scrutiny. A small gesture that sealed the deal for Dean. He liked that the doctor was not intimidated by him, that confidant in his ability to treat his patients.

"Okay. I'm sorry. Do _whatever _you need to do to help my brother. And please, call me Dean," Dean said, finally sitting down again.

_Please_, he's all I've got, Dean thought. We couldn't have made it this far to lose it all now.

"We'll take great care of your brother, Dean. I'll make sure of it," he said. "I'll be back for rounds tomorrow morning at 7:00 AM. I should have more test results by then that I will be happy to review with you. The psychiatrist, Dr. Schneider, should be in by tomorrow afternoon. If you need anything before then, have a nurse page me," The doctor informed him.

"Thank you," Dean said.

After the doctor left the room, it was just Dean and Sam again. It had pretty much always been just him and Sam, Dean thought. He loved his father very much and he _knew_ his father loved them, but Dean recognized now that on many days his father just didn't have much left to give, emotionally or physically. Hunts always seemed to be about much more than just killing a demon. He wouldn't let Sam become collateral damage. Dean looked at Sam's sleeping face. The doctor had said Sam was a fighter. Missouri had said Sam was stronger than he knew. Please, _please_ Sam be strong. Until then, he'd just be strong enough for the both of them.

"Dean?" Bobby asked as he walked into the room. "I met Sam's doctor in the hallway. Seems like a good guy," Bobby said as he circled around the bed and put a hand on Sam's shoulder. "He said it was best if only one person at a time visited with Sam for now. We passed a motel on the way here. I'm going to check in and give Ellen a call. Later if you want to..."

"I'm going to stay here with Sam, okay Bobby?" Dean asked with a smile, trying to pretend that everything was good even though he knew Bobby wouldn't miss the tears that he felt pooling in his eyes.

"Yeah, sure. I'll be back in the morning with some real coffee. The stuff here tastes like tar. Well, you know my number kid," Bobby said before leaving.

Sam woke with a start, feeling as if someone or something demanded it. His room was dark and quiet. Through the glass wall ahead he could see a sole lamp on at the nurse's desk, but no staff were in sight. Suddenly, the light began to flicker on and off in constant intervals. Confused, Sam sat up, feeling compelled to leave his room to investigate. Sam was surprised when he again felt no pain in his chest or anywhere else. He swung his legs over the bed after making a quick mental note that he appeared to be able to move all of his parts without difficulty. Dean looked uncomfortable sleeping on a plastic chair nearby, but did not wake. Sam calmly unhooked his IV and the heart monitor with ease, the monitor screen appearing to have been turned off anyway. He slidoff of his bed and then secured his gown with the tie around his waste. His bare feet did not seem to even make the smallest sound as he walked out of his room towards the desk. He remained focused on the light's repetitive pattern until he heard a female voice speak nearby.

"I've been waiting for you, Sam. It's time to begin now."

Sam could see a woman standing at the far end of the hallway, but he was unable to make out her face. The voice did sound _so_ familiar, and Sam struggled to place it.When the light switched off and back on again, he gasped as she was now inches from his face...

Please stay tuned for Chapter 2 when I will really start to get to the meat of the story. Thanks for reading and come back soon! Oh, and please don't forget to review. They energize my fingers! 


	2. Small Victory

After much thought, I decided to tweak this chapter a bit. Hope you like the revision even better and enjoy where I take the rest of the story!

**Chapter 2: Small Victory (Revised)**

"Molly? How…how are _you_ here?" Sam asked in disbelief, almost unable to complete the question.

Although the light continued to switch on and off, he easily recognized the tall, Caucasian woman with blue eyes and straight, light brown hair.

"You remembered me," she said as smiled and leaned against the desk. "I wasn't sure if I made as much of an impression on you as you did on me."

"Sure. Dean and I-," Sam began, the memory of that hunt quickly coming to mind.

"Set me free. Without you and your brother's help, I would have been doomed to continue to return to that highway each year to be tortured by Greeley. Now I get my chance to thank you, to help set _you_ free," she explained.

"Set me free from what?" Sam asked, more confused than ever now.

"From your burden. The burden of the question you have been struggling with for some time now-," she answered.

"Am I good or am I evil?" Sam finished her statement, remembering his mother's earlier words.

"Yes. It's ironic, isn't it? You taught me, a _spirit_, how to let go and cross over and I'm here to do my part to teach you, a _person_, how to let go and live."

"_Please_. I don't understand what's happening!" Sam exclaimed in desperation.

"You will," she said as she pointed over Sam's shoulder to his room.

Sam gasped again when he saw his own body in the hospital bed, sitting up and staring back at him! With each switching on and off of the light, his face was visible and then lost in darkness. Light and dark. Good and evil. Which was he? When and how would he _finally_ find out the answer?

"I'll see you soon, Sam, I promise," she said with an almost sad looking smile before she turned around and began to walk away.

"WAIT!" Sam yelled as the desk light turned off for the final time leaving him in complete darkness.

"What is it Sammy?" Sam heard Dean ask in a muffled voice before he was suddenly and violently yanked back to his room, back to his bed…and then finally back to the numbness…

"Wait for what, Sam? Sam!" Dean asked, desperately hoping Sam's mumbling was meant for him.

Dean's words were answered only by Sam's continued blank stare. Dean felt so guilty now. How long had it been since he'd fallen asleep while Sam was awake or whatever it was that he was doing? He had to reach him somehow! He took Sam's limp hand and squeezed it tight while he grabbed the black plastic chair with his other hand and pulled it right next to Sam's bed. After sitting down, Dean ran his free hand over his face.

"Okay, Sammy. How about a bedtime story? Do you remember that when you were young I used to tell you a story or two when you couldn't sleep?" Dean said before laughing at the memory. "Funny that my bedtime stories were usually about ghosts, vampires, or other things that we hunted. Hell, that's all I knew about. No one ever read me Little Red Riding Hood or whatever crap parents read their kids," Dean sighed as he watched Sam's face.

No change, no response.

"Anyway, this time I think I'll tell you something Dad told me about the two of you," Dean decided, hoping this particular story would help snap Sam out of whatever funk he was in. "Don't know if you'd remember it or not, but it sure seemed to have made an impression on him."

With each word, Dean's muffled voice grew in volume to meet Sam's ears with perfect clarity. Although Sam still felt unable to move or even blink, he could feel a force pulling at his body once again and he was drawn into Dean's memory almost as if he was right there at that moment…

_Sam shot up in bed, his heart pounding from the memory of a nightmare that was already beginning to fade. He did feel some relief when he saw Dean sleeping next to him. He rubbed his eyes and turned his head when he heard his father, sitting at a square wooden table in front of a large window covered with shabby brown drapes, talking on the phone._

"…_It breaks my heart. I don't know what to do. He's such a good boy. Smarter than the other kids in his kindergarten class too. Mary would have been so proud of him," his father paused for a moment when his voice started to betray his grief._

_Sam's breath caught in his throat and tears filled his eyes at his father's words that he knew were about him. Was his father proud of him too? John appeared to be listening to the other person on the line before saying, "Thank you. I'll talk to you again in a few days. Bye."_

_He hung up the phone and turned around to face Sam. _

"_Why are you up so late?" His dad asked him._

_Sam sat there, frozen for a moment, unsure of how to answer. He wanted so much for his father to see him like he saw Dean, strong, instead of like a five year old baby afraid of his own dreams._

"_Come sit with me for a moment, okay?" John said with a smile, sensing his youngest son's trepidation._

_Sam crawled out of bed and slowly walked up to his dad, who pulled him into a hug as soon as he was close enough. Sam closed his eyes for a moment as he breathed in the familiar smell of pipe smoke from his father's shirt. His dad never smoked any around him or Dean though, saying once that he had promised Mary before Dean was even born. John lifted Sam up and sat him in a brown cushioned chair across from him. _

"_There. Shhh. It's okay. I can feel your heart pounding so hard it's about to come through your chest! Tell me all about it, kiddo. You have a nightmare?" John asked with a comforting smile as he wiped away Sam's tears._

_"I...I dreamed that I killed a lot of people," Sam answered in his young voice._

_The smile left his dad's face, almost as if Sam had voiced what his father had nightmares about too._

"_Sammy," he whispered as he leaned down to look directly into Sam's eyes. "You could never hurt anyone. I know that and I want you to know that. I'm sorry that I haven't been around much lately. Dean told me that you've been having a lot of bad dreams lately," his dad said gently._

"_What else did Dean say?" Sam asked as he looked back at his father's young face, his small face scrunched up in anger that Dean had told on him._

"_That you keep screaming 'I'm sorry' and 'I'm bad' over and over. That he has to shake you awake, sometimes for a few minutes, until you snap out of it. Are the bad dreams about what happened to Mar...your mom? Because it's not your fault you know. None of it. And you are NOT bad. Never have been, never will be. You understand me?" his dad paused for a moment, and Sam didn't miss the tears that glistened in his eyes. "Now let's go to sleep, hmm? I'll make sure that everything is okay. As long as I'm alive, I will NEVER let anything hurt you."_

_Sam nodded, the only response he could muster as he processed his father's words. John kissed the top of Sam's head before picking him up and carrying him over to the bed, laying him down next to Dean. Sam fought back more tears as his dad pulled the cover over him, but he listened to his father like he always did and closed his eyes to sleep... _

Dean sighed in relief as Sam's eyes finally closed. A small victory that he hoped was the first of many.

"As long as I'm alive, I'll never let anything hurt you either, Sammy. Just rest and get better, Okay?" Dean whispered.

Dean sat back in his chair, still holding Sam's hand, and watched his little brother's chest steadily rise and fall as he slept.

**Of course, thanks again for reading and reviewing and see you soon for Chapter 3!**


	3. It Can't Be For Nothing

**(Welcome back! Please review Chapter 2 first, as I made a few changes.)**

**Chapter 3: It Can't Be for Nothing**

Dean again glanced up at the round wall clock. Two and a half hours had crept by and he was relieved that Sam still appeared to be deep in sleep. Dean, however, was _quite_ on edge, his bouncing leg betraying his agitation. He _really_ needed someone to talk to right now and an unconscious Sam would have to do.

"Well, Sam, here we are again," Dean whispered. "You, mixed up in a whole lot of trouble, and me, always at least two steps behind trying to save you. I am _so_ sorry. I really am. I hope you know that."

Dean felt the tears coming and decided once and for all to just let them come. He usually denied himself any release of emotion other than anger, but so much had been building up inside of him for so long now. There was no one around. No one would know.

"I hope someday you can forgive me, Sammy. I promised to protect you and I've been doing a pretty crappy job of it. Just dumb luck that I didn't get you killed years ago. I need to do better. From now on, I promise you that I _will_ do better," Dean said quietly, wiping away the flowing tears with his free hand.

"When you wake up and when you get all better, you're done. No more hunting for you. You'll go back to school, you'll find a girl, and you'll raise a couple of kids. That's what I want for you, Sam. That's what Mom and Dad would have wanted too. And I'll...I'll go away. Leave you to your new, safe, and _normal_ life. That's how I can best protect you. I know that now. By just leaving you the hell alone. You may not understand at first, and it won't mean that I don't love you. You'll always be my little brother."

As the tears continued to fall, Dean leaned back in his chair and resumed his bedside vigil.

Dean gently released Sam's hand and stood to move his stiff muscles. Slowly he walked over to the window and looked out at the almost blinding early morning sunlight that was bursting out from behind rolling clouds. What would today bring? The doctor would be there soon and Dean hoped he would have an encouraging answer to that question. He didn't know how much more of this agony he could take.

"Dean?" Bobby asked from the doorway, two lidded Styrofoam cups of coffee in his hand. "You look even worse than yesterday, if that's possible."

Dean smiled as he took one of the large cups from the man's outstretched hand.

"Thanks for the compliment," Dean said with a smile.

"What are friends for?" Bobby asked as he walked over to Sam's bed.

"You speak with Ellen?" Dean asked before taking a big sip of the hot, caffeine infused drink.

"Yeah. I spoke to her last night," Bobby said as he turned back to Dean.

"She and Missouri okay?" Dean asked.

"Oh, _they're_ fine," Bobby said, his voice indicating that there was more to the story.

"What's up, Bobby?" Dean asked with concern as he put his cup down on the nearby table.

"Ellen can't get a hold of Jo and she's worried," Bobby answered.

"Are _you_ worried?" Dean asked.

"Not yet. Jo's a tough kid. Ellen's goin' to keep tryin' to reach her. I'll let you know," Bobby said.

Bobby's assessment was good enough for Dean and the subject was dropped for the time being. The two men sipped their coffee in silence until Bobby spoke again.

"Any change with Sam?" he asked.

"Not sure. He was doing that dead-eyed stare thing again last night and mumbled something, but I couldn't make it out. He fell asleep after awhile and has been sleeping ever since, thank God," Dean answered.

"And you know he's been asleep since then because?" Bobby asked, although Dean's bloodshot eyes provided the clear answer.

Dean took another sip rather than bother to answer.

"Look," Bobby said. "Why don't you go to the motel to grab a shower, a change of clothes, and some shut eye? I'll stay here with Sam for awhile." Bobby offered.

"Can't," Dean said as he stifled a yawn. "The doctor will be here in about an hour."

"I know that you want to be here for Sam. I get it. I do. But you gotta take care of yourself too. You need to take a break. At least get yourself cleaned up. You'll feel better. Hell, at least you'll _smell_ better," Bobby said with a smile.

Dean smiled too as he made a show of sniffing his right armpit and then his left. He did want to get out of the scrubs and back into his own clothes.

"You win. But if there's any change-," Dean began.

"I'll call you right away," Bobby said, finishing his sentence.

"Bobby?" Dean said seriously, unable to resist asking some of the difficult questions that had been rattling around in his head for the last couple of hours.

"Yeah?" Bobby replied.

"All that he's been through and him…dying and coming back to life," Dean said, willing his voice to stay steady. "It _can't_ be for nothing, right? He's not just…he's not just going to be a freaking vegetable the rest of his life, right?"

"Dean, John knew what he was doing. He would never do anything to hurt either of you two boys. I know _that_ much. Now get out of here, will ya?" Bobby said as he threw Dean the motel room key.

"Okay, okay. I'm gone. Bye, Sammy," Dean called over to his brother just in case he was listening.

Bobby sighed and took a seat in that damned plastic chair that his old bones had _really_ grown to hate.

Forty five minutes later, Dean, his hair still damp, rushed through the halls of the hospital until he reached the ICU and finally Sam's room. Bobby stood up as Dean entered.

"You clean up good, kid," Bobby said in greeting.

"Did the doctor come already?" Dean asked after noticing Sam was wearing a different hospital gown and his eyes were now open.

"Nah. A nurse just finished up with him, though. Said the doctor would be here in a few minutes. Feel better?" Bobby asked as Dean walked over to Sam's bed.

"Not really," Dean said as he put his hand on Sam's arm and leaned down to inches from his face.

He was going to try again, just one more time, even though he knew better than to get his hopes up.

"Sam, can you hear me? Sammy? Just say something, please!"

Dean waited for a response... A word... A glance...A twitch…_Anything_. Instead Sam just continued his usual unblinking stare at the wall. Dean stood back up as one last nagging question nawed at him. One last thing that he _had_ to rule out _before_ the doctor came.

"You got your holy water on you, Bobby?" Dean asked without taking his eyes off of Sam's face.

"Always," Bobby said as he pulled a small, round silver flask from the inside pocket of his worn canvas jacket and handed it to Dean. "What's up? We both saw the demons leave Sam's body. And we both heard what John said."

"I know, but…I just need to be sure," Dean answered as he splashed a small amount of the clear liquid on Sam's chest and waited.

There was no reaction. Dean was surprised to realize that he almost wished Sam _was_ possessed. At least then he would know what to do to get his little brother back. There was no possession, but were there other supernatural forces at work here? His thoughts were interuppted when Dr. Casey and another man with gray hair and a beard entered the room.

"Hello, everyone," Dr. Casey said. "This is Dr. Schneider, the psychiatrist I told you about. He had an opening in his schedule this morning, so I asked him to come see Sam with me. How is he?" The doctor asked while he and the other doctor exchanged handshakes with Dean and Bobby.

"He got some sleep. That's something, I guess," Dean said with a clench of his jaw, frustrated that he had nothing better to report.

"Glad to hear it," Dr. Casey said as he and Dr. Schneider moved over to Sam's bed. "Why don't you two go to the waiting room while we examine your brother and then we'll talk?"

Dean nodded in agreement and he and Bobby left. A millennium later, which was actually only about an hour or so later, Dean stopped pacing when a nurse called to them from the doorway.

"First of all," Dr. Casey said after Dean and Bobby returned to Sam's room. "The bullet's entrance and exit wounds are both healing very nicely. Better than I expected. Your brother's blood pressure and pulse are within normal range. We also received additional tests back from the lab this morning and all are normal. I think he'll be ready to be transferred out of the ICU by tomorrow if he continues to do this well."

"That's great, Doc! I _really_ needed to hear some good news today," Dean said excitedly.

"I'm sorry to say that Sam's not out of the woods yet. Dr. Schneider performed some assessments of his own, but I'll let him talk to you about that," Dr. Casey replied.

Dean swallowed, clenched and unclenched his jaw a few more times, and nodded his readiness to the psychiatrist.

"Well, since Sam is nonverbal, my assessments are based on physical findings and appearances only. Dr. Casey is likely correct that your brother is suffering from Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, or PTSD, with catatonic features. Catatonia is a syndrome of psychic and motoric disturbances. In the current Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders, it is not recognized as a separate disorder, but is associated with psychiatric conditions such as PTSD. Patients with catatonia may experience an extreme loss of motor ability and will ignore any external stimuli. This motionless, apathetic state in which one is oblivious or does not react to external stimuli is called stupor. He or she may repeat meaningless phrases or speak only to repeat what the examiner says. An individual in this state makes little or no eye contact with others and may be mute and rigid. One might remain in one position for a long period of time, and then go directly to another position immediately after the first position. Your brother is exhibiting some of these such symptoms."

"I understand," Dean said slowly as he processed Dr. Schneider's words. " What's the treatment?"

"Benzodiazepines are the first line of treatment to provide relief from the catatonic state, and high doses are often required. A test dose of 1-2 mg intramuscular lorazepam will often result in marked improvement within half an hour. Unfortunately, Dr. Casey has already administered this treatment with no apparent benefit. Ultimately the underlying cause needs to be treated. Electroconvulsive therapy is an effective treatment for catatonia, as well as for most of the underlying causes such as PTSD or depression. However, I am unsure if this treatment will work as the benzodiazepines did not." Dr. Schneider explained."The only other treatment that I am aware of is called Flooding Breakthough Therapy, or FBT. It is being researched in France, but it is quite controversal and not widely practiced anywhere else."

"Tell me about it," Dean said, urging the psychiatrist to continue.

"Alright. Let me start with some background information first. One of the treatments for PTSD is exposure therapy. In exposure therapy, the goal is to have less fear about one's difficult memories. It is based on the idea that people learn to fear thoughts, feelings, and situations that remind them of a past traumatic event. By talking about the trauma repeatedly with a therapist, the patient learns to get control of his or her thoughts and feelings about the trauma. The patient learns that he or she does not have to be afraid of the memories. Usually, the focus is first on memories that are less upsetting before talking about worst ones. This is called "desensitization," and it allows the patient to deal with bad memories a little bit at a time. A therapist may also ask the patient to remember the bulk of the bad memories at once. This is called "flooding," and it helps the patient learn to not feel overwhelmed," Dr. Schneider explained.

"But Sam can't talk. We don't even know if he can hear us!" Dean exclaimed, frustration bubbling up inside of him again.

"Yes, and FBT seeks to address these factors. Since Sam is catatonic, we can instead expose him to sounds or discussion about the said event to try to trigger a breakthrough. If the desired breakthough is achieved, it is quite distressing for the patient, but the catatonic state must be broken before any other treatment can commence. However, in the limited research of FBT, extreme, catastrophic reactions have been noted to occur in a number of the cases. I'd be happy to discuss FBT with you at length and provide you with some literature, but I recommend that we first try Electrconvulsive therapy-"

"I want to try FBT first. I don't want to waste any more time," Dean decided, interrupting Dr. Schneider.

"Dean, I think you r_eally_ need to take some more time to think about this," Bobby cautioned.

What the hell was Dean thinking? Bobby didn't see any way for this to end other than _all _of them being escorted into a padded room.

"I respect your opinion, Bobby, but I've already made up my mind," Dean said, a plan already forming in his mind.

"If FBT is your final decision, let's talk in my office so we can set up the prime conditions. We'll have the first session tonight and then evaluate the results," Dr. Schneider explained.

Dean nodded in agreement. It wouldn't be long now before Sam was finally awarded the new life that he deserved.

**Thanks for reading (thanks also to Wikipedia online for some of the info. for this chapter) and please continue to bear with me as I really get into the meat of the story! A quick review is much appreciated as well! **


	4. So Strange

_"Dean, I think you r__eally__ need to take some more time to think about this," Bobby cautioned._

_What the hell was Dean thinking? Bobby didn't see any way for this to end other than __all __of them being escorted into a padded room._

_"I respect your opinion, Bobby, but I've already made up my mind," Dean said, a plan already forming in his mind._

**Chapter 4: So Strange **

Bobby was relieved when the doctors finally left Sam's room a few minutes later, as he was sure he couldn't have held his tongue for much longer. He grabbed the back of Dean's shirt and pulled him back into the room after he attempted to follow the pair.

"I HAVE to go, Bobby!" Dean insisted as he shrugged off Bobby's grasp.

"Have you gone COMPLETELY NUTS? How EXACTLY do you expect to make the psychiatrist go temporarily deaf while we play "This is Your Life, Demon Edition" with Sam?" Bobby asked angrily.

"I'm not worried about the doc," Dean answered confidently.

"Oh? And why the hell not?" Bobby asked.

"Because _he's_ not going to be there," Dean said, a big smile on his face now.

"And _why_ would he agree to that?" Bobby asked skeptically.

"He won't have a choice if Sam's not a patient here anymore, now will he? Now, I have to go and get a crash course in FBT. And unlike most of high school, I _will_ pay attention this time," Dean explained.

"NOT A PATIENT?!" Bobby yelled as he threw up his hands in frustration.

"Shhh. Don't worry. I…have…a…plan," Dean said with his best Dr. Kirk impression before rushing out the door to head to Dr. Schneider's office.

"Don't worry? Too late," Bobby grumbled as he turned back to Sam and that damned plastic chair.

* * *

_"This is so… strange," Sam whispered to Molly after Bobby and Dean finished their conversation. _

_He looked down at his body in the hospital bed, at his open eyes, at his rigid body…He felt as if he was looking at someone else. Someone he didn't know and had no connection to. A stranger._

_"You don't have to whisper, Sam. No one else can hear you," Molly reminded him with a smile._

_"You sure that I'm not dead?" Sam asked again, knowing the answer but needing to hear it again. _

_"You're not dead," Molly reassured him. "It's not easy, I know, being so unsure of what's going on around you. I will do whatever I can to help you to be as comfortable as possible on your journey," she said supportively. _

_"On my journey," Sam repeated. "How long can I stay in limbo like this? When will I have to make my final decision?" Sam asked. _

_"I don't know. I would still be in my own kind of limbo if not for you and your brother," Molly answered._

_"I have so many questions. When will I meet the others that you mentioned before? Who will they be? Will I see my mom and dad again too?" Sam asked in rapid succession. _

_He so wanted to see his mom and dad again. Just one more time. Please, just one more time. _

_Molly didn't answer. Sam didn't expect her to. She took his hand and squeezed it instead. He appreciated that she didn't draw attention to the fact that tears had begun to slip down his cheeks. _

_"That treatment. The FBT. It scares me," Sam said after a moment of silence to regain his composure._

_"That it will work or that it won't?" Molly asked. _

_"Both," Sam answered with a sigh. _

_"Sam, facing your past to find your way to reality is always better than living in a world that is not. W__hen you and your brother helped me to finally see the truth about my death and about my husband's living, I was both immensely happy and devastated at the same time. He was alive, but it would be with another wife by his side. That's a price I was very willing to pay," Molly explained. _

_"You're right. I have to face my past in order to move on," Sam decided. What price would he have to pay to find peace? He took a final sigh and wiped the last tear away. He was ready to find out. _

* * *

"Now I know for SURE that you're nuts. You know that right?" Bobby asked Dean as they both eased Sam gently down on one of the motel room's queen beds."Certifiable!"

"Maybe," Dean agreed. "Probably," he added with a smile. "But that was some escape, right? You got to give me that. This handsome mug can charm anything from anybody," Dean said proudly with another smile.

"You have all the supplies you need to take care of Sam's wounds?" Bobby asked.

"On wheels!" Dean exclaimed as he pulled back the curtain and pointed at the ambulance parked in the lot.

"You ARE going to return that, right?" Bobby said as more of a statement than a question.

"Of course. Wouldn't want my girl to get jealous," Dean said as he turned his gaze to look at the Impala before letting the curtain fall back into place. "Well, thanks, Bobby. I mean that."

"I'm sorry that I have to go," Bobby apolgized,"but Ellen says she has a life or death situation that she needs my help with immediately."

"She wouldn't say what it was about over the phone? That _can't_ be good. You think it's about Jo?" Dean guessed.

"Don't you worry about it. You need to focus on Sam right now," Bobby advised him. "I'll call you in a few days. Hopefully we'll both have good news for each other."

"Say hi to Ellen and Missouri for me," Dean said as he extended his hand to Bobby.

"Hey, we're beyond handshakes, remember?" Bobby said as he hugged Dean with a couple of macho back slaps thrown in.

After Bobby left the motel room without another word, shutting the door behind him with a soft click, Dean looked back to his little brother. Sammy almost looked like he was just sleeping. Like everything was normal. Like he would wake up in a minute and jump on his laptop or tease Dean about something, to show how much smarter he_ thought_ he was than him. How it used to irk him when he did that. Now he would give anything for that brotherly normalcy that they used to share. _Anything._

"Well, kiddo, it started with the two of us and that's how it's going to end. You're coming back to me and I'm not taking no for an answer," Dean said as he sat down carefully on the edge of the bed. "I hope you're ready," Dean said outloud. Because I don't know if I am, Dean thought to himself.

**I know it's very short, but I wanted to ensure everyone that I am working on a whopper of a next chapter so stay tuned!**


	5. Oranges and Vanilla

_After Bobby left the motel room without another word, shutting the door behind him with a soft click, Dean looked back to his little brother. Sammy almost looked like he was just sleeping. Like everything was normal. Like he would wake up in a minute and jump on his laptop or tease Dean about something, to show how much smarter he thought he was than him. How it used to irk him when he did that. Now he would give anything for that brotherly normalcy that they used to share. Anything._

_"Well, kiddo, it started with the two of us and that's how it's going to end. You're coming back to me and I'm not taking no for an answer," Dean said as he sat down carefully on the edge of the bed. "I hope you're ready," Dean said out loud. Because I don't know if I am, Dean thought to himself._

**Chapter 5: Oranges and Vanilla **

Dean sighed for what seemed like the hundredth time. He was stalling. He _knew_ he was stalling. Hell, even in his little brother's catatonic state, _Sam_ probably knew he was stalling. Dean could count the number of times on one hand that he had been this nervous before and he was beginning to regret his bold action to administer the Flooding Breakthrough Therapy treatments on Sam all by himself. Yes, he had listened to the psychiatrist very carefully and he was pretty sure he understood how the therapy was supposed to work. Yes, the psychiatrist offered him no other alternatives other than electroshock therapy, a procedure that he would never agree to, no matter how much the dude insisted that it was humane and painless now. And finally, he and Sam did have a powerful connection. They were brothers, besides being the only family each other had left. Hell, he had been the only one able to pull Sam back to reality when Missour's meditation lesson went horribly wrong. However, even with those points in mind, the psychiatrist's words continued to play over and over in Dean's head.

"_Since Sam is catatonic, we can instead expose him to sounds or discussion about the said event to try to trigger a breakthrough. If the desired break though is achieved, it is quite distressing for the patient, but the catatonic state must be broken before any other treatment can commence. However, in the limited research of FBT, extreme, catastrophic reactions have been noted to occur in a number of the cases…"_

A catastrophic reaction was not an option, Dean decided. He had to do it and he had to do it _right_. Dean also recognized that he wasn't stalling only because he was nervous that the therapy wouldn't work. The trips down memory lane would be painful and difficult for _both _of them. Remembering painful memories on purpose went _very_ much against Dean's nature. Ignoring the pit in his stomach, Dean finally moved to sit with his back against the bed's headboard next to where Sam laid.

"Okay, Sammy. Your first session with Dr. Dean is about to begin. The psychiatrist told me that I'm supposed to," Dean paused to think of the right words," ...to overwhelm you with memories of crucial events to basically cause your brain to crash. When it reboots, it will hopefully bring you out of your catatonic state at the same time. Does that make sense? Unlike you, I'm not a computer nerd so I probably should have picked another metaphor. You should at least be happy to know that I plan on skipping the time that you decided to cut your own hair before your first school dance and ended up looking like a rooster," Dean said with a chuckle.

He dwelled on the memory for a moment before finally getting serious. No more jokes. No more stalling.

"When…when you were six months old our mom died. Correction. She was _murdered. _The yellow eyed demon bastard murdered her without any warning, without any reason that I will _ever_ completely understand. That's….that's when our lives changed forever. Because I was only four myself, what I'm about to tell you will be a combination of my sketchy memory, dad's memory as he told me years later, and what I've since learned from Dad's journal and Bobby."

Dean glanced over at Sam one more time before continuing. Sam looked unchanged, still staring up at the ceiling and breathing steady. Dean hoped by the time he was done with their first session, there would be at least_ some_ positive result. Dean put his hand over Sam's and began to speak again.

"It happened at our house in Lawrence, Kansas, of course. It was a dark night. No stars. Mr. Johnson's old dog was barking like crazy again for no apparent reason. It had been windy all day, like a storm was coming, but when darkness hit, the wind just suddenly died. Mom carried me into your nursery to say good night to you, like she always did. You were in your crib with the baseball mobile that the neighbor lady had made you. You looked as happy as can be, probably because mom put Mr. Cuddles, your favorite teddy bear, next to you. After mom passed me off to Dad, he made some joke about you tossing around a football or something like that, and I said you weren't ready. Then Dad hugged me. Now _that_ I remember. The hugs I remember. From both Dad _and_ Mom. I know you wouldn't remember and I'll deny talking about it if you ask me later, but Mom's hug was very different from Dad's. Her's was gentle and her skin was _so_ soft. I also remember that she smelled like oranges and vanilla…"

_"Molly, I don't know what to do. Should I be doing something?" Sam asked as he stood next to the bed with her while Dean continued to speak._

"_Shh," she soothed as she put her hand on his shoulder. "Just close your eyes and listen to Dean. Let his voice take you where you need to go," she answered. _

_Sam did she instructed and he soon lost the feeling of her hand on his shoulder, his brother's voice completely enveloping him into the memory of that fateful night. _

"…Dad's hug was strong, almost crushing at times. He smelled like car oil and leather, thanks to his job at the garage. Anyway, you know what your nursery looked like, since the yellow eyed demon took you there in your dream. On the one blue wall was a round clock that had antique airplanes, cars, and tractors on it that never worked again, even after dad somehow found it pretty much unscathed after the fire. Your crib was in front of the window. I forget what color the curtains were. You know what happened next too. After Mom heard you crying on the monitor, she went into your nursery to check on you. A few minutes later she screamed, waking up dad who had fallen asleep in front of the t.v. downstairs. He yelled for Mom as he ran up the stairs. He found your door closed. He opened it and rushed inside, only to find you okay in your crib, happy even. Not until he saw blood dripping onto your blanket, did he look up. That's when he saw Mom," Dean said before pausing a moment to ensure his voice remained steady, "on the ceiling. She looked white as a sheet and the front of her nightgown was dripping with bright red blood..."

_When Sam felt something cold drip onto his head, he flinched and quickly opened his eyes, afraid that it was somehow his mother's blood. He was shocked to discover that he was no longer in the motel room with Dean, but in his destroyed nursery. As much as he was afraid to, he slowly looked up. No. Not his mother's blood. Water. Water was dripping from a large icicle protruding down from the blackened ceiling. He rubbed his arms for warmth as he scanned the rest of the frigid room. A thin layer of ice covered all four once blue walls of the now empty room. It was beyond creepy. It felt like a tomb. _

"_Molly?" Sam's voice echoed, disoriented from the sudden change of surroundings, but received no answer. _

_He was alone here. What was going on? Was this part of the treatment? _

_Sam gasped when a figure stepped away from the window and walked toward him. His mother! He should have expected to see her here of all places, but it was still a shock every time he did. As usual, she was wearing her white nightgown, but now she looked...she looked dead. He didn't want to see her like that. Didn't want to remember her like that. Sam shivered again as he waited to see what would happen next. _

"_It's so cold in here now, sweetie," Mary said as she stepped closer to him. " but your being here makes me feel warm inside again, if only for a moment." _

"_I'm sorry," Sam said to her with tears in his eyes. He had done this to her. _

"_I said that to you many times before, do you remember that?" she asked. _

_Sam nodded yes. _

"_But I never explained why. This is bigger than you now, but it started with me. And for that I'm sorry. For that, I will never forgive myself," Mary said. _

"_What do you mean?" Sam asked as his mind searched to put meaning to her words. "Did you know the yellow eyed demon would come to our house? That he had been watching our family since before I was born? I… I don't understand."_

"_I didn't know then, but I should have expected something. When I was young, I made a mistake. A promise that I should never have made. When I saw him that night in your nursery, I knew my time was up and I was willing to pay with my life. But I didn't know at what price my mistake would cost our family. I didn't understand what dangerous path it would send all of you down. I put the target on my family. On you. All this death. All this destruction. It's all my fault, not your's."_

"_What mistake? Did dad know?" Sam asked, his mind racing with questions._

"_No. No one else knew. But you will know it all very soon. You and you alone. No one else will understand. Not until it is over. Not Bobby. Not even Dean. I need you to live, to end this for us all. Your destroying the demons has showed me that you are ready. You are strong enough," she explained._

_"I won't see you again, will I?" Sam sensed.._

_"You will. But I hope that time will not be until you are old. Very old. Remember what I told you. I need you to understand that you deserve to live," she said quietly as she hugged him. _

_Sam closed his eyes and he felt the tears begin to fall again. He felt a small bit of comfort that she still smelled ever so slightly of oranges and vanilla. Even in this strange place between the world of the living and that of the dead. _

_Sam jumped when he again felt a hand on his shoulder and he opened his eyes. He found himself back in the motel room with Dean, with Molly still by his side. _

"_Sam!," Molly said excitedly as she squeezed his shoulder. "You're crying!"_

"_I can't help it. My mom-," Sam began to respond. Although his mother had been dead as long as he could remember, it was only now that the grief was really hitting him. She was really gone this time. _

"_You don't understand. Look!" she exclaimed again as she pointed at his body still lying on the bed next to Dean. _

_Sam's eyes widened. He saw now why she was so excited. Sure enough, he saw a tear run down his cheek as the same one ran down his cheek._

"_Oh," Sam gasped, unable to say anything else. Was he finally regaining some connection with his body? _

"That's it, little brother! Sammy, can you hear me? Please God, let this be working. Wake up!" Dean pleaded as he scrutinized his brother for any other response.

Although Sam gave no other signs and stopped crying soon after, Dean was encouraged. He didn't know what was going on in Sam's head, but he was sure that Sam was in there. That Sam was listening. Dean was emotionally drained himself, but would only rest a moment before moving on to talking about Jessica's death. Dean ran a shaking hand over his face as he got up to adjust the heat. It was really cold in here all of the sudden…

**I know it's been forever and I promise I have a lot of very good excuses. Writer's block, holidays, getting married in June…Anyway, I'm just glad that you all came back to read and review this chapter. See you back here again soon! I promise!**


	6. Many Paths

"_Sam!" Molly said excitedly as she squeezed his shoulder. "You're crying!"_

"_I can't help it. My mom-," Sam began to respond. Although his mother had been dead as long as he could remember, it was only now that the grief was really hitting him. She was really gone this time. Her ghost would no longer appear to him._

"_You don't understand. Look!" she exclaimed again as she pointed at his body still lying on the bed next to Dean._

_Sam's eyes widened. He saw now why she was so excited. Sure enough, he saw a tear run down his cheek as the same one ran down his cheek._

"_Oh," Sam gasped, unable to say anything else. Was he finally regaining some connection with his body?_

"_That's it, little brother! Sammy, can you hear me? Please God, let this be working. Wake up!" Dean pleaded as he scrutinized his brother for any other response._

_Although Sam gave no other signs and stopped crying a few moments later, Dean was encouraged. He didn't know what was going on in Sam's head, but he was sure that Sam was in there. That Sam was listening. Dean was emotionally drained himself, but would only rest a moment before moving on to talking about Jessica's death. Dean ran a shaking hand over his face as he got up to adjust the temperature. It was really cold in there all of the sudden…_

**Chapter 6: Many Paths**

Despite turning up the heat, Dean was surprised to notice that his hands were _still _shaking a few minutes later. _Get it together! _Dean thought, although he was unable to completely ignore the likely reason for the tremors. Although talking to Sam about his mom's death seemed to go fairly well, he was no less afraid of how his little brother would react when he made him next relive Jessica's death. Dean still remembered Sam's reaction to her death like it was yesterday… the relentless nightmares, the crushing self-blame, the blind obsession to find her demon killer. What would Sam's reaction be now, here? Dean wondered if it would be what would finally bring Sam out of his catatonia or push him _further_ out of his reach? What would Sam do if their positions were switched? He had no doubt about the answer to that question. Sam always had as much hope as Dean had cynicism. After a deep breath, Dean resumed his position on the bed next to his little brother and began to speak. 

"Sam? Can you hear me?" Dean said, unable to keep from asking although he knew full well that he wouldn't get a response. "We gotta get started again. This is gonna to be another tough one, dude. Nothing I can do about that. I do want to start by saying that I _can't_ know what it was like for you to have found that girl you wanted to marry and then have her so brutally taken away from you. What I _do_ know is the helplessness _I_ felt to see _you_ in so much pain. From the moment I pulled you out of that apartment, after Jessica died burning on the ceiling, you suffered with nightmare after nightmare, for months, blaming yourself, desperate to avenge her death. I hope you finally believe that it wasn't your fault. No one _ever_ believed it was your fault. Anyway, you never told me everything you went through since that night, you never could seem to get the words out, but I know enough. _No_ one should have to go through what we did with losing mom, and for you to have had to go through that all again with Jessica…," Dean sighed before continuing. 

"_Molly," Sam said to his only companion in a panicked voice, "Everything is happening too fast! He wants to talk about Jessica and I still don't understand what my mom was trying to tell me! What am I supposed to know about my mom that will help me fight the demons? I need at least a little more time with her!"_

_Sam recognized that he wanted more than just a little more time with his mother. He wanted the years that he and Dean should have had with her, but he knew that he wouldn't see her again. He knew he would have to settle for his memories of her ghost and that hurt so much that there were no words. Was it possible to grieve for her even though he never knew her while shealive?_

"_Sam, I know this is all very scary, but you must focus on what Dean is saying or you won't be able to help yourself, let alone figure out what your mother was trying to tell you. Your brother is doing his best to follow the psychiatrist's instructions. It has to happen fast. You know all of this. It's time for you to face Jessica now," Molly answered. _

"_But what…what if Jessica does blame me for her death? I'm…I'm not ready for that. Not on top of everything else," Sam said breathlessly as he staggered back against the wall and slid down to sitting position. _

_He was so exhausted. He just wanted to close his eyes for a little bit, just a little bit. The blessed numbness of the darkness was calling to him…It would be so easy to finally just give in to it..._

_"It's your decision to continue this or not. It's always been your decision. But you know as well as I do that if you give in, your life won't be the only one destroyed. And I don't just mean Dean's. Please, Sam," Molly replied as she held out her hand to him._

_After a moment of silence, Sam shook his head in agreement and took her hand, standing again with great effort. He looked at his older brother just in time to see him reaching into his front shirt pocket. _

Dean stopped speaking for a moment and pulled out the cheap lighter that he had "picked up" at the hospital's gift shop. He stared at it as he mentally planned out how to continue. The psychiatrist had told him that it was important to utilize as many of Sam's senses as possible while talking about the traumatic event to help evoke the desired breakthrough response. Dean flicked it open and watched the flame burn for a moment before he slowly brought the flame close to his brother's left cheek.

_Sam touched his cheek, stunned that he could actually feel the heat of the flame that Dean held next to his face of his body on the bed. He supposed that connection was a good thing, but it was becoming more and more uncomfortable with each second. When Dean began to speak again, Sam seemed unable to focus on his brother's words, or anything else for that matter, as the increasing heat now radiated out from his cheek to shoot through his body and straight down to his toes like a lit fuse. A moment ago it was so cold, and now it was so hot that even the air seemed unbreathable. Sam gasped for air, but could seem to get none. When the involuntary coughing began, he collapsed to his knees, put his head in his hands, and squeezed his eyes shut, hoping for the painful sensation to pass. _

_Feeling as if he was about to pass out, Sam remembered what Molly had said and forced himself to open his eyes. He was shocked to see that bright fire was now rolling across the ceiling above him. What the hell? Dean and Molly were both gone. Wait! He recognized this room! Of course! It was the bedroom of his college apartment that he had shared with Jessica, where she had died on the ceiling! As he continued to cough violently, he crawled on his hands and knees to the door that led out to the living room and kitchen. He reached up for the doorknob, feeling his energy drain significantly with the exertion from the lack of oxygen. He had to get out! He pulled the collar of his t-shirt up and over his mouth as he grasped again for the doorknob. Finally, success! He wrenched the door open and spilled into the other room. He slammed it shut behind him as he gulped in the now clean air. He felt his energy returning when a glorious sound broke the silence._

"_Here I am, Supersam," Jessica said, now standing over him. _

_Tears instantly sprang to Sam's eyes after she said her nickname for him. As she helped him stand, Sam was too overwhelmed with emotion to speak and instead pulled her into him. He had dreamed of this moment. He had so much to say, and no idea where to begin. How many times had he planned out what he would say to Jessica, how he would apologize to her, if he could talk to her just one more time? If only they could stay here in this moment forever…but he knew, as with his mother, that time with Jessicawould be short. He didn't want to waste a second of it. _

"W_e don't have much time," she said as if reading his mind._

_When she pointedback at the bedroom door before taking his arm, Samunderstood her meaning.__Dark gray smoke had already started to seep out from around it. Sam let her pull him along, amazed that the sunny, cheery apartment looked to be as exactly as he remembered it. The picture frames on the mantle, plants on the windowsill, the unfinished plate of chocolate chip cookies still waiting for him on the kitchen table. His attention returned back to Jessica as she sat him down next to her on the couch. He ran his hands along her beautiful smiling face, mesmerized. Suddenly, the words began to tumble out of his mouth like a tidal wave._

"_I'm so sorry, baby. Please, please forgive me. I didn't think that my nightmares would come true! I didn't understand what I was, what was going to happen! I should have done something, anything, to protect you-," Sam began to apologize as tears rolled down his cheeks. _

"_Sam, remember the time when we first met?" She interuppted gently as she lovingly brushed his tears away. _

"_You mean when I practically ran you over with my Schwinn?" Sam asked, a smile forming on his face. "I…I haven't thought about that in a long time. Not because I didn't want to," Sam added quickly. "It's one of my most cherished memories, but it hurts so much to remember."_

"_You ran into me with your bike and my backpack spilled out all over the grass. You rushed to help pick up my books, talking a mile a minute to apologize without even once looking me in the eye," Jessica remembered with a laugh. "You were so cute."_

"_Terrified was more like it! My brother wasn't lying when he told you that you're out of my league," Sam said, laughing with her._

"_But do you remember what I said to you after you handed me my last book?" Jessica asked, more seriously now. _

_Sam paused for a moment, as if watching the precious memory play out in his mind. He did remember. Of course he remembered._

"_You...you told you that it was fate that we met. Then you asked me out," Sam answered._

"_That's right. It was fate. I was supposed to meet you. Supposed to know you. Supposed to love you. And I don't regret a minute of it. You made me so happy," Jessica explained._

"_Not as happy as you have made me._ _I wanted you to be my wife," Sam said as he took her soft hand in his. _

_The smoke was billowing out from around the door now, and Sam could feel the air temperature rising rapidly._

"_And that would have made me very happy. But there are many paths to happiness, Sam, even if they are not yet revealed to us. I am happy now, where I am. I want you to be happy too," Jessica said as she rested her handover his. _

"_I don't deserve to be happy. I don't deserve to live," Sam insisted with tears in his eyes again. _

"_You do deserve to happy. You do deserve to live. Nothing that has happened to me or anyone else was your fault. Don't keep yourself from finding your path to happiness, Sam. I'm afraid what would happen to you if you did," she said._

"_I want to be with you. We can stay here together. Please," Sam begged, not caring about anything else at the moment, not even returning to Dean. _

"_Focus on the_ _happy memories like the day we met, not horrific ones like my death. I know that the world seems like a dark place right now, and I need to know that you are in it alive, happy, and helping people because there is much more work to be done. Will you promise me that?" Jessica asked._

_Suddenly the bedroom door burst into flames and dark smoke poured into the room.When Samlooked backat Jessica, the couch was empty. _

"_I promise," Sam managed to say before the coughing robbed him of all ability to speak. _

"Sam!" Dean yelled at his little brother, terrified. "Don't do this to me! Breathe, God damn it!"

He yanked Sam's limp body to him into a sitting position as he hit his brother's back in an effort to help him breathe. Sam's head fell onto Dean's shoulder and Dean could easily hear the wheezing and coughing as Sam tried to bring air into his lungs. He didn't know what else to do. Was he choking? What the hell was going on?

"Breathe, Sammy!" Dean yelled again. 

As quickly as it began, Dean felt Sam's breath against his neck returning to normal. Dean knew his heartbeat would take much longer to return to normal. He was so on edge now, he doubted he would get any sleep tonight.

"Please, Sam," Dean pleaded quietly into his brother's ear. "I can't take this anymore. Please wake up."

Dean's words were met with nothing but silence once again. He held his brother to him for another minute, just to make sure that his breathing stayed normal, before easing him back onto the bed.Dean got off of the bed and punched his fist right through the nearby wall. God, did he need a drink. A very, very_ strong _drink. Hands shaking again from the still surging adrenaline, he carefully pulled up Sam's shirt to check the bandage of the bullet's exit wound before and gently rolling himonto his side to check the bandage of the exit wound on his back. Both were still in place and free of blood, thank God. Crisis averted, Dean acknowledged, but had there been any gains this time? Dean couldn't tell. If only he could have some sign from Sam whether or not he should continue this...

_"How do you feel, Sam?" Molly asked after Sam regained his composure and stood to his full height of over six and a half feet._

_Sam wiped the last of the tears away before answering. _

_"As difficult as that was, to see Jessica, I feel...resolution. I can't put it all into words right now, but I can tell you that I made her a promise to live, todo my part to bringthis world back to where it should be," Sam replied._

_"Then why are you still here with me?" Molly asked. "Something is holding you back. You need to figure out what it is before it's too late and all connection with your body is gone."_

**Thanks for reading and reviewing! I hope people still care about this story, because I do! I promise a great ending to this storythat will lead into to the third and final story of this Burden series that is sure to please (I hope so, anyway)!**


	7. Connection

"_Please, Sam," Dean pleaded quietly into his brother's ear. "I can't take this anymore. Please wake up."_

_Dean's words were met with nothing but silence once again. He held his brother to him for another minute, just to make sure that his breathing stayed normal, before easing him back onto the bed. Dean got off of the bed and punched his fist right through the nearby wall. God, did he need a drink. A very, very__ strong __drink. Hands shaking again from the still surging adrenaline, he carefully pulled up Sam's shirt to check the bandage of the bullet's exit wound before and gently rolling him onto his side to check the bandage of the exit wound on his back. Both were still in place and free of blood, thank God. Crisis averted, Dean acknowledged, but had there been any gains this time? Dean couldn't tell. If only he could have some sign from Sam whether or not he should continue this..._

_"How do you feel, Sam?" Molly asked after Sam regained his composure and stood to his full height of over six and a half feet._

_Sam wiped the last of the tears away before answering._

_"As difficult as that was, to see Jessica, I feel...resolution. I can't put it all into words right now, but I can tell you that I made her a promise to live, to do my part to bring this world back to where it should be," Sam replied._

_"Then why are you still here with me?" Molly asked. "Something is holding you back. You need to figure out what it is before it's too late and all connection with your body is gone."_

**Chapter 7: Connection**

"_But I'm not in control of any of this! I don't know what to do to get back into my body!" Sam insisted as he motioned toward the bed._

"_I thought you would have realized it by now," Molly said._

"_Realized what?" Sam inquired, not following her line of thinking. _

"_That your psychic abilities have not ended when you were shot in the Abbey with the Colt, Sam," Molly explained. "In fact, they have been heightened."_

"_Heightened," Sam repeated, still not sure exactly what she was trying to tell him. _

"_Yes. Your psychic abilities, present since birth, were merely redirected from their true purpose when the demon's blood dripped into your mouth when you were sixth months old. Until the Colt bullet expelled all evil from your body that is. You now can become the adversary every evil thing fears. If you allow yourself to utilize your abilities to their full potential, that is. If you finally decide that you are good, and worthy of that role," Molly responded. _

"_I'm not sure that I understand. My psychic abilities have been at the root of all of this pain and death for everyone that I ever loved and now they're not only going to get me back into my body, but be crucial in winning this demon war?" Sam asked. _

"_Yes! And we need Dean to help you unlock what is still keeping you here in this place between the living and the dead. The answer is inside of you, even if you cannot yet find it. Dean's unsure if he should continue the therapy, but he must! So much depends on it!" Molly explained._

"_But I can't talk to him!" Sam said in frustration. _

"_You might yet not be able to talk with your brother, but that doesn't mean you can't communicate with him in other ways," Molly suggested._

"_How?" Sam asked. _

"_You've made a connection with your body and with him before. Do it again," Molly answered as if it was the most simple thing in the world. _

"_I don't know ho-," Sam began._

"_Sam, please. Just try, okay?" she asked. _

_Sam sighed as he looked from Molly to his brother sitting on the edge of the bed, his head in his hands. A moment later his brother glanced back at his body laying next to him and then stood. Sam was again reminded of how proud he was of Dean, for everything that he was doing to save his life. He also could see it in Dean's face that Molly was right, Dean seemed torn about whether or not to continue with the therapy. How can he make that connection with his body and Dean on purpose this time? The other times it had just happened. He didn't do anything to make it happen, did he? Sam again thought about something Missouri had told him during a lesson._

"_In a way you could always summon your abilities, but fear, anger, pain are the devil's motivators. I will try to teach you to control your abilities using other emotions…" _

_The bond. He would focus on the strong bond he knew he had with his older brother. That bond had brought him back to reality, back to consciousness, before at Missouri's house and again on the road when he was possessed by the demons. It would work again here. It had to work again. He needed Dean's help to find his way back. He closed his eyes and began the deep breathing that Missouri had also taught him during one of the lessons. Sam began to think about the many good times he had had with his brother, allowing them to flash through his mind like a slide show, paying careful attention to focus on the positive emotion associated with each one. When Sam opened his eyes again, he couldn't help but smile. He hadn't focused on good memories like those in a long, long time. He was rewarded for the attempt when he saw his body on the bed smile as well! It worked!_

"_Good job, Sam! Keep going!" Molly encouraged, as she placed a supportive hand on his back._

"_Sam?" Dean asked excitedly as he ran over to Sam's side of the bed and took his little brother's face in his hands. "Can you hear me? Wake up! Tell me how to help you!" _

_Sam walked over to the bed and crouched down next to his brother. Sam knew what he wanted to do, but could he make it happen? His head only inches from Dean's, he closed his eyes again and concentrated._

After a moment, Dean's eyes got wide and he flew off the bed. Breathing rapidly now, his mind tried to process what had just happened.

_Sam knew by his brother's reaction that it had worked! Dean had just seen the happy memories too!_

After he took a few deep breaths to calm himself, Dean walked back over to the bed and leaned over Sam's body.

"Was that you, Sammy? Are you trying to show me that you are still in there? That you want me to continue with the therapy? Well, whether it was you or not, I really needed that," Dean said. "Let's go again," Dean decided as he walked over to the coffee pot and poured the black steaming liquid into the white styrofoam cup.

"_You did it, Sam!" Molly said excitedly as she hugged him. "He's going to continue with the therapy!"_

_Sam was relieved and happy that it had worked, although a part of him was a little scared by what had just happened. What else was he capable of?_

Dean sat back down next to Sam, coffee cup grasped tightly in his hand. Carefully and slowly he held the cup up to Sam's nose.

_The strong smell of coffee interrupted their celebration. Sam could feel the anxiety starting to build up inside of him again. It had to be done, yes, but it was never easy. Never. He listened intently as Dean began to speak, wondering who he would talk about next. _

"Dad sent you out of my hospital room for coffee so he could talk to me alone. It's still hard to think about it, you know? I mean it…it meant so much to me when he said that…that he was sorry that he put a lot on me to take care of him and you and that he was proud of me. But I wanted to, Sam. I never regretted for one minute that it was my role to take care of the both of you. But it was at the end of that last conversation that he told me that he wanted me to watch out for you and to not be scared. Right before he said… he said I'd have to kill you if I couldn't save you. That was unbearable to hear. I don't even think I was able to wrap my mind around it at first. Then he left my room. You were the one who found him. On the floor in his hospital room," Dean said with a slight quiver in his voice.

_Sam was so sorry that Dean had to relieve their dad's death as the next part of the therapy. This would not be easy for Dean either. He knew how much Dean had blamed himself for their dad's deadly deal with the yellow eyed demon. Sam was nervous and excited at the same time at the thought of next seeing their father's spirit. There was so much to say, so much to ask him. He always needed his dad, even when he didn't want to admit it. Would his dad have any of the answers he has been searching for about his mother, his psychic abilities, or winning this demon war? Or would he and his dad start fighting again? Sam felt unable to tear his eyes away from the white coffee cup as Dean continued. If only he hadn't left to get his dad that stupid cup of coffee, maybe-_

Dean paused for a moment in an attempt to regain his composure. He could do this. Just describe it like any other supernatural event they've come across. Free of emotion. Maybe it would be after this one that Sam would wake up and be okay. The positive self-talk made him chuckle. That was something he would have expected from Sam. When he began speaking again, the steadiness in his voice had returned.

"The doctors and nurses went to work on him right away, but it was no use. We didn't know it then, of course, that they couldn't save him because dad had given his life and the Colt in exchange for my life. I know that neither of us will ever forget the moment when the doctor told his staff to stop compressions and then called the time of death at 10:41 AM. Remember how hard it was for us when the clock hit 10:41 AM for the next few days?" Dean asked. "I'm not mad at him anymore about the deal he made, because when I was faced with your death, I understood and made the same choice. And I'd do it again and again if I had to. Anyway, this is about dad-,"

"_You hear that, Sammy? He's not mad at me anymore. When are you going to forgive me too?" Sam heard his dad's voice say from somewhere behind him. _

_Sam quickly turned around to see his father leaning against a stark white wall. He recognized the room as the one in which his father had died. An empty bed with rumpled sheets and clear plastic tubes was in the middle of the room. A heart monitor whined with the constant beep indicating a flat-line. Indicating death. Sam watched as his dad walked over to the machine and turned it off. _

"_Forgive you for what?" Sam managed to say, the overwhelming emotion threatening to render him speechless. _

"_For sending you away from Dean's hospital room. For not telling you what I knew about you. I thought I was protecting you. I know now that it was a mistake," his father explained. "I also hope you understand what happened at the Abbey. Why I had to make Dean shoot you with the Colt."_

_His father walked slowly toward Sam, but stopped about six feet away, as if unsure if Sam would accept him or not. _

"_I do forgive you, dad," Sam said as he quickly closed the gap between he and his father to hug him. "Please also know that I never hated you. Not ever. Both Dean and I have missed you so much! So much has happened since you died! I-," Sam's fast talking was cut off by his father pulling away from him to place one of each of his hands on Sam's shoulders. _

"_Look at me, Sammy. I know that you don't hate me. And I'm sorry that I had to leave you two boys to fight on without me. But I saw no other choice," John said. "A lot is on your shoulders now, huh? And you're not sure if you're up to it?"_

_Sam nodded. _

"_You are. And I'm not just saying that because you are my son and I love you. You were always a strong boy. I should have told you that more. You know I wished things could have been very different for you and Dean, but I now believe that a chain of events was set in motion long before you were born. I never could find any evidence to support that, but I've always had that feeling," John said. "Nothing that has happened has ever been your fault. The only thing responsible for our pain and the pain of so many countless others is evil, in whatever form it takes. Do you understand me?" John asked. "I know that our time is short. What else can I tell you so you can know that you do deserve to live?" _

_"Do you know where mom's diary is?"_ _Sam asked. _

"_How do you know about that? Have you…have you seen Mary?" John asked. "I have not been able to find her."_

"_Yes, many times. She's helped me a lot, but I won't see her again. And I must know where her diary is, please. It could hold the key to my succeeding in fighting the demon war," Sam explained. _

"_There's nothing in there, Sammy. I've read it a thousand times since she died," John said._

"_Please, dad," Sam said. "Where is it?"_

"_I buried it. Next to a weeping willow tree on Bobby's property where she used to love to sit and write. I'm sure Bobby remembers where-," John said._

"_I know exactly where that is," Sam said. _

_Maybe that's why the weeping willow tree was the first place that he had seen his mom's spirit. The journal, something that she poured her heart into, was buried there._

"_You find your way back, son. Because if I catch you around here again, I'll give you a whooping you'll never forget. You got that?" John asked with a smile. _

"_Yes, sir," Sam answered with a smile of his own as he pulled his father into one last hug goodbye. _

_Sam jumped when the heart monitor began to whine it's loud constant sound again, like an alarm clock telling him it was time to wake up. But unlike an alarm clock, there was no snooze button. No extra time. _

"_Bye, Sammy. I love you, son," John said._

_Although Sam could no longer hear his father's voice, he could still see his father's lips move and he understood. A moment later, Sam found himself lying down on the hospital bed. Or so he thought, until he saw Dean leaning over him. He was lying on the motel bed! Did it finally happen? He was finally back in his own body? It was finally over?_

"...the last time we saw dad's spirit was at the Abbey. I'm not sure, of course, but I believe that he did climb out of hell and that he's happy somewhere with mom. What do you think, Sammy?" Dean asked, as his eyes searched Sam's for any response.

_Sam tried to open his mouth to answer his brother, but couldn't seem to make it move. Couldn't seem to make any sound at all. Sam was shocked to discover that he couldn't move any part of his body either! He realized that although he had made great progress this time, the transition was still not complete. Unless he figured it out what to do fast, he would be doomed to a life of helplessness and dependance, trapped inside his body forever. Sam wasn't sure if that was worse than death or not. Neither provided him the opportunity to fight the demon war. And that was just plain unacceptable. He still had much work to do. His psychic abilities were all he had now. He hoped they would not let him down. _

**Thanks again for reading and reviewing, kids! Stay tuned for more! And did I thank you for reviewing?**


	8. Fear Be Damned

"_Bye, Sammy. I love you, son," John said._

_Although Sam could no longer hear his father's voice, he could still see his father's lips move and he understood. A moment later, Sam found himself lying down on the hospital bed. Or so he thought, until he saw Dean leaning over him. He was lying on the motel bed! Did it finally happen? He was finally back in his own body? It was finally over?_

"_...the last time we saw dad's spirit was at the Abbey. I'm not sure, of course, but I believe that he did climb out of hell and that he's happy somewhere with mom. What do you think, Sammy?" Dean asked, as his eyes searched Sam's for any response._

_Sam tried to open his mouth to answer his brother, but couldn't seem to make it move. Couldn't seem to make any sound at all. Sam was shocked to discover that he couldn't move any part of his body! He realized that it was not over. Unless he figured it out what to do fast, he could be doomed to a life of helplessness and dependence, trapped inside his body forever. Sam wasn't sure if that was worse than death or not. Neither provided him the opportunity to fight the demon war. And that was just plain unacceptable. He still had much work to do. His psychic abilities were all he had now. He hoped they would not let him down._

**Chapter 8: Fear be Damned **

Despite his determination to think positively, Sam could feel fear beginning to tighten its grip on him once again. He had achieved the strongest connection with his body that time, but he felt more trapped and out of control than ever. What had gone wrong? In his current state, he couldn't even seek advice from Molly anymore and wondered if she was still nearby. It made him feel a little bit better to think she was. And where was Dean? What was his brother waiting for? God, was he sick of staring up at that stupid stained ceiling. Sam just wanted this to be over, and he was sure Dean was at the end of his rope too. Fear be damned. He wasn't about to wait anymore for something to happen.

_Just bear with it a little longer, Dean, and it will all be okay. I promise._

Dean practically fell off of his chair when Sam's voice suddenly somehow echoed in his mind, the encouraging words putting a significant amount of his anxiety immediately at rest. Dean smiled. Maybe he was going crazy, but who the hell cared? He got up from the small table by the door and walked over to Sam's side of the bed. He leaned over his brother to once again stare into his eyes, as if by doing so he could as easily put reassuring thoughts into Sam's mind to calm any fears or anxieties that he may be feeling. A moment later Dean allowed himself a small laugh as another thought came to mind.

"It's times like these that I almost wish_ I_ was the supernatural freak. No offense, Sammy," Dean said with another laugh as he stood back up. "But I would love to be able to know what's going on in that head of yours right now. I should be the one comforting _you_. Telling you everything is going to be okay. I mean, that's my job as the big brother, but you know that already. Sick of hearing it, I'm sure," Dean said as he slowly walked over to the window and pulled back the curtain.

Somehow it was easier to talk to his reflection in the window pane than to look into Sam's eyes for what he planned to say next.

"Well…I…I know that there's one more experience that must have been quite traumatic for you, although we've never talked about it. I meant to bring it up, but…well…honestly? I'm not even sorry that it happened. But _how _it happened? Now, that…that _did_ scare me. _That _we should have talked about. But if dad was right, anything that may have been pushing you toward…toward the dark side, for a lack of a better term, is gone from you now, right? Because I shot you with the Colt," Dean acknowledged as he shook his head. "I understand why dad had to make me do it, but I never would have had the heart to do it on my own. Made giving up my soul for your life look like a piece of cake, though. That Jake. That…damn…son-of-a-bitch. I know, I know. If you could talk, you'd tell me he was a victim of the yellow eyed demon as much as you and the rest of the kids were, right? But no, f- that. I don't buy it. He gave in to it. You…you _fought_ against it and…well…you know what happened next."

Before continuing, Dean turned around and opened up the laptop that was on the table behind him. After he pulled up the website that he had found earlier, he carried the laptop over to the bed and placed it on the mattress between him and Sam.

"You listening to me, Sammy?" Dean said as he moved the white cursor over the small triangle.

The sound of rapid gunshots rang out from the laptop's speaker.

"Did I mention how much I HATED that Jake kid?" Dean asked as he played the sound byte again, the last words of Dean's that Sam heard before another male voice filled his ears.

"_You cheated death, so NOW you think you're man enough to wield it?"_

_Sam gasped, once again unexpectedly finding himself in another place. He, of course, instantly recognized his surroundings. It was the graveyard where Dean had shot and killed the yellow eyed demon. He also knew that voice, the voice of the young man whom he had shot and killed there. Sam looked down at the gun in his hand and saw Jake lying on the ground to his right. Sam was again confronted with the horror of the bright red blood trickling out from the other man's mouth as well as from the many bullet wounds in his chest. Bullet wounds from HIS gun that he again held in his hand now. This was one death that he had tried so very, very hard not to think about. Whether he liked it or not, he knew that he had to face it now. _

"_I'm…I'm so sorry. I don't know why I-," Sam said, tears in his eyes._

"_Don't be sorry," Jake said as he stood, wiping the blood from his face on his already soiled shirt. "I would have done the same to you. Oh, wait, I did," Jake added sarcastically. "But I didn't have a big dumb brother to give his life for mine. Look, Sam, I'm not happy about it, but you won. You're the last man standing. But what good is that honor if you throw away the opportunities that come with it? The power you have from the yellow eyed demon will ALWAYS be a part of you, no matter what your precious daddy told you!"_

"_Jake, listen to me! I-," Sam insisted before being cut off. _

"_No! You listen to me, Sam!_ _You're father's always known what you were capable of! Hell, you should be mad at him! Denying you your potential for all of this time! Our kind is strong, special. Use it! Show them what you can do! Make them ALL pay!" Jake demmanded._

_"Jake, this isn't you talking! You're as much of a victim of all of this as the rest of us. Maybe even worse, because you don't see what it's done to you!" Sam said, trying to reason with the angry young man._

_"I understand better than you think! Hell, being good little boys and girls didn't get us very far in life did it? Especially not for you. Dead mom, girlfriend, dad. It's time to look out for yourself, and no one else! It's easy. Just come with me and I'll teach you everything you need to know," Jake said as he held out his hand to Sam. _

_Sam looked from Jake's face to his extended open hand, not failing to notice that the night sky seemed to be closing in around them now, obscuring more and more of the graveyard's landscape into darkness with each passing moment._

"_No! You're wrong!" Sam yelled as he pointed the gun at Jake with a shaking hand. _

"_Oh really? Think you're so angelic now? That gun you're pointing at me says different," Jake responded with an evil sneer as he lowered his hand. "You answer me this. If you had to do it all over again, knowing how it would play out, would you still let me live? Or would you kill me when you had the chance the first time?"_

_Sam didn't answer, his brain not seeming to be able to put together the right words for him to speak. Sam knew that was NOT a good sign. Still smiling, Jake walked up to Sam and pressed the barrel of the gun to his forehead._

"_Go ahead. You know you want to. You are just like me, like the rest of us. Kill or be killed. Evil is an edge, Sam, and if you don't have one in this world you're nothing. I can show you how to use that edge to get EVERYTHING you want."_

"_Never," Sam managed to say before he tossed the gun to the ground. _

"_Well, then. I did the good Samaritan thing. Guess that means that I get to have some fun instead," Jake said as a smile spread across his face._

_Too late Sam ducked to avoid Jake's powerhouse punch that knocked him back with such force that his body bounced off of the stone crypt behind him like a rag doll before falling to the ground in a heap. Breathing heavy, stunned and in pain, Sam was helpless to prevent Jake from next slamming his fist into his stomach. Once. Twice. A third time. Sam gasped for air as he tried to concentrate on not blacking out. He knew that blacking out would mean something very, very bad. Jack stepped back from Sam and began to chuckle, the sound quickly escalating into a maniacal sounding laughter. _

"_This is way too easy! Don't you even want to try? Jedi mind tricks, remember? Here, let me show you!" Jake yelled._

_Suddenly, Sam felt his body being pulled up the wall of the crypt before stopping about four feet off of the ground. A moment later, Sam was shoved into the stone with incredible force before he felt his legs and arms being pulled so hard that he couldn't help but scream from the excrutiating pain. _

Dean startled when Sam all of a sudden began to scream and his body contorted as if in great pain. He watched powerlessly as Sam gasped for air and his eyes rolled back in his head. Dean slammed the laptop closed and immediately grabbed both of his brother's shoulders and shook them in an effort to get through to his little brother.

"SAM! Whatever it is, fight it! I know you can do it!" Dean yelled.

"_You can stop the pain, Sam, you can get down, and you can come with me. It's really very easy. All you have to do is wish it to be so," Jake instructed as he continued to watch Sam._

_Sam bit his lip hard to keep from screaming again, he didn't want to give Jake the satisfaction, as he struggled hard against the force pushing him against the wall and pulling on his limbs, still helpless to break free. It was as if he was watching a horror movie that was rapidly coming to its very obvious bloody conclusion. No. No. It would not end like this. The good guy was supposed to win. The good guy should always win. But what if being good wasn't good enough? What if Jake was right? He was afraid to find out the answer, but that didn't mean he wouldn't try. _

"_You're weak, Jake," Sam gasped. "That's why the demon wanted me. You weren't who he really wanted!" Sam taunted him, trying a new tactic. _

"_Shut up!" Jake yelled as he stabbed a finger in his direction. "You shut up!"_

_Sam could feel the force beginning to lessen! It was working!_

"_You know I'm right!" Sam yelled. "He told you so, didn't he? You will never be who I am!"_

_Suddenly the force let go of Sam, and he fell to the ground in a heap. After taking a moment to regain his composure, he unsteadily rose to his feet, fell, and rose again, willing his body to move through the pain._

"Please help him, because I can't anymore," Dean whispered, almost unable to believe that he was pleading, begging.

No, he didn't believe in God, but that didn't mean that whatever Sam believed in wasn't listening.

_Jake, obviously fuming, swung at Sam again, but this time, Sam caught Jake's fist in mid-air and threw it back, surprised at his own strength. He wasn't sure where it was coming from. But he had an idea. Dean would be so mad Jake kicked his ass again. Jake fell back down to the ground, but rose again quickly. This time he wore an evil smile._

_"You know what? This is good. Why don't you try something with your mind next?" Jake said. "Then it will only be a matter of time until you will be like me!"_

"_I will never be like you because Dean believes in me! God believes in me! They are my edge! They give me all of the strength that I will ever need to stay true to myself! More than evil, black magic, and hate ever will! I AM…,"_

"…GOOD!" Sam yelled as he shot up in bed to a sitting position.

Suddenly hit with incredible pain and exhaustion, Sam would have fallen back against the mattress if not for Dean grabbing him. It felt both immensely strange and unimaginably good to be in control of his body again. Then his eyes focused on Dean's concerned face. That felt the best of all.

"Sam? Is it really over? Say something please!" Dean begged.

"Thank you," Sam whispered.

Although Sam's words were heavy with the pain and exhaustion, they were no less music to Dean's ears.

"Bitch," Dean said hopefully with tears in his eyes.

"Jerk," Sam whispered.

Dean smiled. Yeah, his little brother was definitely back all right.

**Thanks for reading and reviewing. Blah, blah. Got an emotional and exciting chapter (or two- not sure) coming up that leads into the third and final story in this Burden series, so stay tuned!**

Return to Top


	9. When Eyes Are Blind

_Suddenly hit with incredible pain and exhaustion, Sam would have fallen back against the mattress if not for Dean grabbing him. It felt both immensely strange and unimaginably good to be in control of his body again. Then his eyes focused on Dean's concerned face. That felt the best of all._

"_Sam? Is it really over? Say something please!" Dean begged._

"_Thank you," Sam whispered._

_Although Sam's words were heavy with the pain and exhaustion, they were no less music to Dean's ears._

_"Bitch," Dean said with tears in his eyes._

_"Jerk," Sam whispered._

_Dean smiled. Yeah, his little brother was definitely back all right._

**Chapter 9: When Eyes Are Blind **

"Good morning, sunshine," Dean said the next day when he noticed his little brother stirring in bed. After taking the last sip from his Styrofoam coffee cup, he added, "Jeez, how is it that you _still_ look tired?"

"Maybe because you kept waking me up every five minutes?" Sam grumbled before he yawned.

"It wasn't _every_ five minutes," Dean responded with a scoff as he stood and stretched. "More like every hour."

"I don't have a concussion, Dean. I was…catatonic or…or whatever," Sam said as he slowly eased himself up to a sitting position, the movement eliciting a soft moan and quickened breathing.

"_Whatever_ is right," Dean agreed, after giving his brother a moment to compose himself.

"I know. I told you everything that I can remember, but I'm still not sure what to make of it all either," Sam replied.

"You know what, Sammy? Doesn't really matter anymore if it makes sense or not. We'll stay here until you feel up to moving on and then…," Dean said before a smile formed on his face, "we can finally go to the Grand Canyon or, better yet, L.A., so I can at last bang Lindsay Lohan before she gets too old for me."

"Ha. Ha. Very funny," Sam said. "I hope that I'll only need a few days to rest before we can go. I want to hit Bobby's first to look for mom's diary. Then we can go to Missouri's to regroup with Bobby and Ellen before-."

The smile quickly left Dean's face.

"I think_ you're_ the one telling jokes here," Dean interjected as he crushed his Styrofoam cup and tossed it into the nearby trashcan.

"What are you talking about?" Sam asked.

"Just give it up, will you? It's over! O-V-E-R! Clear enough for you?" Dean yelled.

"_What's_ over?" Sam asked, still not following.

"_Your_ part in fighting the demon war. _THAT'S_ what's over! You want us to go to Bobby's? Fine. You want us to go to Missouri's? That's fine too. But that's where it ALL ends for you!" Dean answered angrily.

Sam shook his head in disbelief.

"Dean, what happened to me changes nothing," Sam said. "The demon war's still going on! And if I'm still alive, then I'm still fighting in it _until_ it's all over…one way or the other! _Nothing _you say will change my mind!"

Dean didn't argue any further, but the fist that he slammed through the wall said enough.

_**One week later...**_

Sam slowly pushed open the car door and eased his legs out of the Impala after Dean pulled it to a stop in Missouri's driveway. After he turned off the ignition, Dean got out and walked around the car to offer his brother a supporting arm. Even though he and Sam were still not talking much, Dean knew the very long car ride had to have been grueling on his little brother's still recuperating body. The instinct to help his brother was still as strong as ever, even if Sam was being a stubborn pain in his ass.

"Wait," Sam said breathless with weariness. "Diary."

Dean sighed in annoyance but reached down and grabbed their mother's diary off of the front seat anyway and handed it to his little brother. Sam quickly took it and stuffed it into his inside jacket pocket.

"Hi boys!" Missouri called from the doorway in her sing song voice.

Sam smiled at the sight of her as Dean helped him up the path. She looked good, and had graduated to a cane. A bright pink cane.

"You two come on in, now. I'm sure you boys have quite the story to tell me and I'm sure you can't wait to hear about how my therapy is going," she said as she held open the screen door and moved aside to let them through. She didn't let them sit though, until she had given each a long hug.

"It's good to see you Missouri," Sam said with another smile as Dean helped him sit down on the couch.

Missouri looked from Sam's smiling face to Dean's angry one and sighed. She sat down next to Sam before speaking again.

"I was so relieved to get your phone call last night. You may join us, Dean," she said after noticing that he had not yet sat down with them.

"No thanks, I have to get our bags out of the car and-," Dean said.

"That _wasn't_ a suggestion, sugar," Missouri said with a smile, but her tone was all business.

After he mumbled something too soft for them to hear, Dean sat down in the nearby armchair and Sam suppressed another smile.

"How are you feeling, Sam?" Missouri asked, turning to the youngest Winchester now.

Sam opened his mouth to answer, but Dean beat him to it.

"He's fine. Are Bobby and Ellen back yet?" Dean asked, hoping to divert their conversation from any uncomfortable topics.

"No, but they should be soon," Missouri replied.

"They find _any_ clues to Jo's whereabouts?" Sam inquired, desperately hoping that the answer was yes.

"Unfortunately, no. Ellen is just beside herself, poor dear," she answered. "So will you two be visiting for awhile?"

Sam opened his mouth, but was again cut off by his big brother.

"Sam, yes. Me, no," Dean answered quickly.

"Dean!" Sam exclaimed.

"Sam, you look plumb tuckered out," Missouri said after turning back to Sam and placing a soft hand on his. "I trust you remember where the guest room is? I'll call you when it's dinner time, okay?"

Sam knew any further conversation with her while Dean was present was pointless anyway, and he was beyond tired. He nodded and got up slowly to make his way down the hall. After lying down on the soft bed, any anger at his big brother was quickly forgotten when he immediately drifted off to sleep.

"Okay. So he's gone. _Now_ can you drop the tough guy act?" Missouri asked.

"Missouri, look. I'm in no mood for an Oprah session right now," Dean said as he stood up.

"Oprah has nothing on me, child. Just sit your butt down and cut the crap!" Missouri ordered.

Dean raised his eyebrows and did as she asked, recognizing that he was being a bit of an ass. _Bit_ being the operative word. But he was _not_ going to budge on any of his opinions, no matter what she had to say to him.

"Tell me about what's going on," Missouri said, her voice resuming its gentle tone.

"Look, Missouri. I'm a big boy. I don't need-," Dean began.

"Dean, I don't have to be psychic to know that you're really scared. Please tell me why. Maybe I can help?" Missouri offered.

Dean looked into her concerned eyes. She wasn't trying to reprimand him about his attitude after all. She was simply trying to help. About an hour and half later, Dean had finished tellilng her about what had happened since Sam was shot in the Abbey.

"Sam's not going to let this go," Dean said. "I almost lost him…again. But he _still_ won't stop. He thinks he's the key to saving the entire human race in this demon war!"

"And what if he's right? Are you prepared for that?" Missouri asked.

"You know something I don't know?" Dean asked with a smile, a poor attempt to hide his fear that she did.

"All I know is that his abilities are still very strong, but I don't sense any evil influence. What that means for him, I don't know. No one will know except for Sam," Missouri answered.

Dean ran a hand over his face. How was it that the _more_ he tried to stay in control of everything, the _less_ in control he felt?

"Why can't he be selfish and use his abilities to win the lottery or something instead? I'd worry a hell of a lot less, " Dean replied.

"Because then he wouldn't be Sam Winchester, now would he? But something else that is classic Winchester is the bond you two share with each other. That's still very strong as well. Don't you forget that. Sam hasn't, even if you two aren't getting along right now," Missouri reminded him.

"Time for a commerical break?" Dean joked. He really, really needed this conversation to end _now_. He was too on edge and really, really hated to get upset in front of other people.

Missouri smiled.

"Sure. You're dismissed," Missouri granted.

She watched the young man leave out the front door, and her smile faded. Those poor, poor boys. When will they ever catch a break?

_**One month later… **_

"...Can you just put down that damn diary for two seconds and look at me when I'm talking to you?" Dean yelled in frustration.

"If you would say something worth listening to, I would!" Sam yelled back, his eyes still scanning the pages filled with his mother's beautifully flowing script.

"So help me God, I could so punch you right now!" Dean exclaimed.

"If you think that will make you feel better, then go ahead! But it won't change anything!" Sam yelled, looking up from the diary now.

"You're right. Punching you won't, but this will!" Dean said as he snatched their mother's diary out of Sam's hands.

"Hey! Give it back!" Sam insisted as he scrambled to get up from the desk.

Although Dean was shorter, he had no problem keeping the diary out of Sam's hands. Sam had not been talking care of himself lately and it showed. Sam's obsession over what secret he insisted was hidden in that diary had become top priority over his health and _everything_ else. Dean had seen that type of obsession before in someone else whom he had also loved.

"You've read this a thousand times, Sammy!" Dean said as he waved the book in the air. "God, you are getting just like dad was! Just like you said you _never _wanted to be! Why can't you understand that there's nothing in here! Move on! There _is_ life outside this room waiting for you! What about going back to school? You could-."

"Give it back!" Sam demanded again, seemingly unmoved by his brother's words.

Dean grabbed his lighter out of his pants pocket, ready to torch the stupid diary, whether it had been his mother's or not, until he looked at the now pleading look in his little brother's eyes.

"_Please_. No," Sam begged, tears rolling down his cheeks now, his eyes glued to the diary grasped tightly in Dean's hand.

Dean shook his head in disbelief and put the lighter back into his pocket. However, when Dean saw the obvious relief on his little brother's face, anger bubbled up from inside of him. Sam just didn't get it! When, how, would his little brother finally understand what all of this was doing to him? In a fit of rage, Dean ripped the book into pieces, ignoring Sam's cries to stop. Dean threw the pieces to the floor and watched as Sam rushed to the floor, gathering up the pieces protectively. Pathetic, Dean thought. Something he thought he would _never_ have thought about his brother. Dean kneeled down to the floor and shook his brother's shoulders until Sam's tear filled eyes finally met his.

"Bobby and I are leaving to handle that demonic possession two states over. We're going to try to get some answers out of it about the war before exorcising it. It's been too quiet lately, and that's never a good thing. When we get back, you better have snapped out of this. I mean it, Sammy! Because if this is going to be your life? Well, it ain't really living at all, is it?" Dean asked as he let go of his brother and stood up.

Sam remained sitting on the floor, his eyes again fixated on the destroyed diary. At the doorway, Dean turned back to look at his little brother once more before leaving. Pathetic, Dean thought. But this time, he was thinking about himself. Dean knew he shouldn't have done that and he knew he wasn't being a very good big brother lately, but he didn't know what else to do to get Sam to see his way. The alternative was just too unbearable.

"Sam, I'm...I'm sorry. I shouldn't have done that. I-," Dean began to apologize.

"Just...just go, okay?" Sam said in a low voice, not looking up from the pieces of his mother's diary that he continued to sift through his fingers.

Dean stood there for a moment, unsure about what to say or do next.

"GO!" Sam yelled, looking up at Dean with eyes that both glistened with tears and flashed with anger.

"We'll talk again when I get back. Don't do anything stupid while I'm gone," Dean said quickly before leaving.

Alone again, Sam shook his head. He knew Dean had a point, knew he only wanted to help him. But it wasn't fair what Dean did. Not at all. Remembering his mother's words that she had spoken to him, he brushed the last of his tears away with a shaking hand.

"_I didn't know then, but I should have expected something. When I was young, I made a mistake. A promise that I should never have made. When I saw him that night in your nursery, I knew my time was up and I was willing to pay with my life. But I didn't know at what price my mistake would cost our family. I didn't understand what dangerous path it would send all of you down. I put the target on my family. On you. All this death. All this destruction. It's all my fault, not your's."_

"_What mistake? Did dad know?" Sam asked, his mind racing with questions._

"_No. No one else knew. But you will know it all very soon. You and you alone. No one else will understand. Not until it is over. Not Bobby. Not even Dean. I need you to live, to end this for us all. Your destroying the demons has showed me that you are ready. You are strong enough," she explained._

"Can we talk?" Missouri said gently from the doorway, startling Sam from his thoughts.

Sam nodded yes and he stood up to walk over and join her sitting on the bed. Both were silent for a moment.

"Feels like years ago that I was in this room with you, you doing your best to help me manage my psychic abilities, huh?" Sam asked.

Missouri smiled.

"So much has happened since then, that it does feel like years, yes," Missouri agreed. "But so much is _still_ yet to happen. Remember that we can count on nothing as a sure thing except for the support and love of those around us."

"If you mean Dean, I'm pretty sure he doesn't like me much right now. Thinks I'm obsessed. Thinks I'm weak," Sam said as he looked down to study his hands. He didn't want her to see that the tears had returned to his eyes.

Missouri sighed and put her arm around his shoulder and squeezed. If she saw the tear drop onto his hand, she didn't say anything.

"Dean wants to protect you. It's what he knows. He just doesn't understand what you're going through," Missouri replied.

"I don't know what the hell I'm going through either! Now I'll never know," Sam said hopelessly as he motioned toward the pile of the destroyed diary on the floor. "Guess it doesn't matter anyway. I've read it a million times and still hadn't found anything."

"Sam, when eyes are blind, we must see through other means," Missouri advised as she stood up.

"What do you mean?" Sam asked, confused.

Missouri smiled but did offer any further clarification.

"I have to go out for a while, sweetie. I'll see you tonight, and then we'll talk some more about it, okay? You need to get some sleep first," Missouri said as she stood.

A moment later, she walked out of the room, leaving only the lingering scent of her lilac perfume behind. Sam got up from the bed and walked over to the pile again. He was tired, yes, but that didn't mean he was going to stop now. He stood over the pieces of the diary, cocking his head as he thought about Missouri's earlier words. How can he see without using his eyes? By using his psychic abilities? He assumed that was what she meant. But he wasn't even sure what abilities he had now, much less how to use them. Only one way to find out. Sam sat down on the floor again and grasped the remains of the diary in his hands. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath and then another, first trying to relax like Missouri had previously taught him. But it _wasn't _so easy to relax this time. He couldn't help but think about how he and Dean weren't getting along. He couldn't help but think about how he still didn't know what to do to find Jo, much less what the hell to do to win this demon war. The pressure of it all was almost as crushing as the time he and Dean first escaped from Bobby's to Missouri's. So many were counting on him, both living and dead. No. He could do this. He _had_ to do this.

Still grasping the remains of the book in his hands, Sam took another deep breath and tried again to relax, pushing the negative thinking out of his mind. As he felt his tense muscles beginning to loosen, Sam began to concentrate intensely on what he wanted to know. Was there a secret in the diary? Was it about the promise that his mother made that cost her her life and sent their family down this road? Or was there something written in her diary about how to fight the demons? Over and over, he ran the questions through his mind until they were all he knew...no other thoughts, no other sounds, no other sensations. When his vision went white minutes later, he wasn't even scared. He could feel something happening. He _wanted_ something to happen. When he woke up on the floor, the room was dark. He didn't know how long he had been out or what had happened. _Did_ something happen or had he merely passed out? For no reason he could describe, he felt compelled to look down at his right hand that was loosely closed into a fist. He opened it to see one slip of paper inside. He smiled. Yes! It _had_ to mean something! Excited, he didn't even notice the bright red drops of blood falling from his nose onto the piece paper as he began to read the words...

**Thanks again for reading and writing! Only one more chapter to go in this story! Then on to the third and final story in this series. Check back again soon!**


	10. Life and Death Serious

Chapter 10: Life And Death Serious

**Chapter 10: Life And Death Serious**

Still grasping the remains of his mother's diary in his hands, Sam took another deep breath and tried again to relax, pushing the negative thinking out of his mind. As he felt his tense muscles beginning to loosen, Sam began to concentrate intensely on what he wanted to know. Was there a secret in the diary? Was it about the promise that his mother made that cost her her life and sent their family down this road? Or was there something written in her diary about how to fight the demons? Would any of the answers help them to find Jo? Over and over, Sam ran the questions through his mind until they were all he knew...no other thoughts, no other sounds, no other sensations. When his vision went white minutes later, Sam wasn't even scared. He could feel something happening. He _wanted _something to happen.

When Sam woke up on the floor, the room was dark. Still feeling strange, he opted to crawl over to the desk to reach up and turn on the lamp. He didn't know how long he had been out or what had happened. _Did _something happen or had he merely passed out? For no reason he could describe, he felt compelled to look down at his right hand that was loosely formed into a fist. He opened it to see one slip of paper inside. He smiled. Yes! It _had_ to mean something! Excited, Sam didn't even notice the bright red drops of blood falling from his nose onto the piece paper as he began to read his mother's words...

_days to get to Atlantic City, but the boys are like John_

_love to be on the road. I'm excited for our boys to see _

_hope John is winning a lot of money in the casino!_

_pushing Dean and Sammy on the boardwalk_

_nice day. It's the beginning of the summer and _

_get out of the sun. I thought it would be fun to_

_Gyspy is a fortune teller. Her sign said _

Not wanting to waste any more time, Sam jumped to his feet to get to his laptop on the desk. It had to be a clue! He had to find out more about this Gypsy woman from Atlantic City! Was she still alive? If so, could he find her and what did she know? His hands flew over the keys as he searched for anything about this psychic. Nothing. Was it a dead end? Seeing no other choice, he decided to try to access his psychic abilities again. It had worked before, why not now?

Sam put his hands into his lap, put his head down, closed his eyes, and resumed his deep breathing. This time, he found that it was slightly easier to calm himself and get into the zone, for the lack of a better term. Once again, Sam's vision went white and his ears deaf as he concentrated on the word _Gypsy_. A moment later a Caucasian woman with long wavy dark hair and a flowing dress appeared in his mind. Sam couldn't see her face clearly, because it was night time, but it was obvious that she was walking on the boardwalk. He could hear the sound of the ocean and smell the salt. She paused under a light and took out a matchbook to light the cigarette that she was holding. Sam could see that it had the Caesar's logo on it and an address for Atlantic City. Sam was desperate to see more, but when pain shot up his neck to his eyes, he was jolted back to reality. The pain lingered, but Sam was too excited to dwell on that. It worked again! That _had _to have been Gyspy! She was alive and still in Altantic City! With shaking hands, Sam picked up his cell phone that was laying next to his lap top and pushed number one on his cell phone.

"_Sam? Are you okay? Why are you calling me?_" Dean asked.

"Dean! Thank God you answered the phone! You won't believe what happened! I found something in the diary and then I _saw_ her!" Sam answered quickly as he absently wiped his nose on his sleeve.

"Slow down! I can't understand you! What happened?" Dean asked again, concerned.

"I found a clue! In the diary! It has to be a clue! Gypsy! She's alive! We have to go see her!" Sam said.

"_Look Sammy, you're not making any sense. Can we wait to talk about this until I come back_?" Dean asked.

"Wait until you get back? Dean, this is important! It can't wait! I-," Sam began to explain.

"I_ told you not to do anything stupid while I was gone and I mean it, Sam. You do NOTHING and go NOWHERE at all until I get back!"_ Dean ordered.

"You don't get it," Sam said softly, hurt that Dean didn't see the importance of his find.

"_I have to go, Sammy. We'll talk about this WHEN I get back_," Dean said before abruptly ending the call a moment later.

Sam looked down at his cell phone in disbelief. He had been dismissed. His brother had _dismissed_ him! How dare he do that! How-. Sam's anger at his brother was forgotten a moment later when he noticed blood on his shirt and on his hand. He walked over to the mirror on the wall and was shocked to see dried blood crusted on his nose and down his neck as well. His skin looked white, and his eyes were bloodshot.

"What did you do?!" Missouri exclaimed from the doorway. "_Sam_! What did you do!"

Missouri rushed over to Sam and pulled him over to the bed. She sat him down, and took his head in her hands, looking over his face carefully.

"I told you we'd talk more about it tonight! You should have waited for me! You have not idea what you are capable of! You-," Missouri began.

"No! I'm not waiting around anymore for something to happen! _I'm_ going to take charge of things, because I am SO sick of everyone looking at me like-," Sam said as stood up.

"Like what, Sam?" Missouri asked gently.

"Like...like I'm damaged," Sam answered.

Missouri sighed.

"Please sit?" she said as she patted the bed next to her.

Sam did as she asked.

"I don't think of you as damaged. But if you continue to do this, you will be. You have to be careful, because you have _no_ idea what can happen to you if you go down this road," Missouri warned.

"Then tell me," Sam said.

"I don't have all of the answers, Sam. I wish I did. God knows I wish I did. But this," she said as she gently brought a tissue to his face. "Is not the way. Forcing your abilities to surface to get the answers you want and hurting yourself in the process is _not_ the way. Your abilities are a gift. But it is a gift that is _not_ meant to be exploited this way!"

"I didn't try to hurt myself, Missouri, but does it matter? Because it gave me this!" Sam said as held up the piece of the paper. "Dean didn't want to hear about it, but I know you will! Read it! It's about a woman my mom met in Atlantic City named Gypsy. Then I thought about her and I _saw_ her!" Sam relayed.

Missouri took the piece of paper, but did not read it. She looked into Sam's excited eyes and realized that he _still _didn't understand, or didn't _want _to understand. And that scared her the most of all. She's seen this before, and the others paid highly. She watched Sam rush over to the desk and begin to type on his laptop.

"She's still in Atlantic City and hopefully she will talk to me!" Sam said without looking away from the screen.

When Missouri heard her house phone ring a moment later, she got up from the bed, leaving the piece of paper there. She took one last look at Sam before exiting the room. As she neared the kitchen, the sound of the mad typing grew fainter and fainter.

"Hello, Dean," she answered into the phone before he identified himself.

"_Jeez,_ _I don't know if I will ever get used to that. Do you know what's going on with Sam? Do we really need to come back?"_ Dean asked.

Missouri's answer was simple.

"He's forcing his gift and I'm not sure I can convince him to stop. Yes. You need to come back _now_."

Sam woke up to the sound of muffled shouting. He groaned, the desk not making a comfortable resting place. After he glanced at his watch, noting that he had slept for a few hours, he got up, opened his door, and walked into the hallway. He was very interested to find out what was going on outside of his room, but stopped short of joining the others in the living room when he heard Dean's angry voice.

"So? You want to use him as what…bait? Forget it!" Dean yelled.

"Dean, they still want him. That much we know. We can use that to our advantage!" Ellen explained.

"Oh, you think so, huh? What gives you the right to use my brother as bait? I won't allow it!" Dean reiterated.

"Now, let's just calm down here you two," Bobby said.

"No! Let's talk about this. You don't want Sam to be used as bait, but you _would_ allow my daughter? Or did you forget about the time that you two boys used Jo as bait to catch that serial killing spirit!" Helen fired back.

"She volunteered! Whereas Sam, well Sam isn't exactly playing with a full deck these days in case you haven't noticed!" Dean shouted.

"She was naïve! Her first hunt! You could have told her no, sent her home to me like I asked! But no! She had something to prove and you took advantage of that! She could have died! You owe her! You _owe_ me!" Helen said.

"Is it me or my father who you think owes you and Jo?" Dean asked angrily.

"_What_?" Ellen asked, in obvious disbelief.

"Oh, come on, Ellen! Let's get everything out on the table! You said you forgave my father a long time ago, but did you really? Or won't you be satisfied until one of his kids is dead too?" Dean accused.

"Let's stop this before either of you says anything else you will regret!" Missouri advised in an effort to de-escalate the situation.

"That has _nothing_ to with this. We need Sam. That's all there is to it!" Helen responded.

Missouri sighed and sat down on the couch next to Bobby. It was if she and Bobby were not even there. Her head turned to the hallway. There was someone else listening that Dean and the others didn't know was there either. Sam. She'd let it play out for now. Maybe everyone did need to get everything out on the table. Good and bad. Maybe that was the only way they could all move on to a mutually agreed upon plan of action.

"Sam has done enough! We can find Jo _without_ him!" Dean insisted.

"No, we can't! I've tried! Bobby's tried! Hell, _you've_ tried! They have Jo hidden so well that not even God could find her! You know I care about Sam, but there's no other way, whether you like it or not!" Ellen implored.

"Look. I'm sorry about Jo, and like I said I will do everything I can to help get her back. But as for Sam? You have my answer. You as much as _breathe_ a word of this to him, I won't help you. Take Sam away from me or_ anything_ shady like that, I _will_ find you and I _will_ kill you," Dean threatened. "I mean it! Sam's my brother. The only family I have left!"

"Jo's _my_ daughter! Jo's all_ I_ have left! I can't lose her. I can't!" Ellen said, tears rolling down her cheeks now.

"And you won't," Sam said as he stepped into the living room.

Everyone went quiet, their eyes darting immediately to Sam before going back to Dean. Missouri sighed again. Whatever was going to happen, she hoped the ending would be cathartic for everyone.

"I don't want this life for you anymore, don't you get it?" Dean asked in frustration.

"I don't need your help with this decision, Dean! I've made up my mind. I had a breakthrough today and I know where I need to go next," Sam explained.

"Oh, really? Missouri told me about your supposed breakthrough. I think _insanity_ would be a better way to describe what's going on there!" Dean answered.

Sam's mouth dropped open.

"Go to hell," Sam growled.

"Make up your mind, Sam. Are you regretting saving me from the pit now?" Dean replied.

""Why are you saying all these things to me?" Sam asked.

"This is life and death serious Sam, no time to mince words. I didn't save you for you to kill yourself!" Dean yelled.

"So you saved my life and I saved your's. Guess we're even now. I'm _not _your problem anymore," Sam said as he defiantly crossed his arms in front of his chest.

"You do _not _want to go there, Sammy. Trust me," Dean seethed.

"They can't find me anymore, so they're going to start coming after everyone I care about. Like Meg did when they wanted the Colt from dad. It will start with Jo and end with you. It's their m.o. Nothing's changed! When the demons that we release from the gate were destroyed, all we did was buy some time, take part of their army away from them!" Sam said.

"I'm so sick of this! Can't you let someone else take on the burden of the human race for once?" Dean asked in response.

"Dean. This _is_ about me. It _can't_ end without me. Why don't you see that by now? Everyone else has!" Sam insisted.

"Oh, _really_? Sure, Ellen does because she wants to use you to find Jo, but not Bobby," Dean said as he turned to the older man.

Bobby looked away from his glare.

"Bobby!" Dean said, before shaking his head in disbelief. "Missouri? Tell him!"

Missouri stood up and walked over to Dean.

"I'm sorry, but I can't. I don't know how Sam fits into all of this, but he's _definitely_ a part of it," she said with tears in her eyes.

"I can do this, Dean!" Sam said.

"I've heard that before! That's what you said right before the demons possessed you and then you begged me to kill you in the Abbey, remember?" Dean reminded him.

"But it's different this time! My abilities are so much stronger now!" Sam explained.

Dean shook his head in frustration. Seeing no other alternative, Dean balled his hand into a fist. If he couldn't convince everyone with his words that Sam shouldn't be part of fighting this demon war, he'd have to no other choice but to _show_ them. Suddenly, he punched Sam in the stomach as hard as he could. Sam fell to the floor, coughing as he struggled to catch his breath. He pulled his knees up to his chest, the pain too great for him to do anything else.

"Dean! What the _hell_!" Bobby yelled as he and Ellen rushed over to Sam.

"Before all of this happened, he would have stopped my punch! You're weak now, Sam! You're NOT physically or mentally ready for ANY of this! If you're not my problem anymore, then you _do _have a problem. You continue to go down this road, and we're done. You hear me? DONE! I can't watch you die again. I just can't!" Dean yelled, tears glistening in his eyes.

"Get out!" Missouri yelled at Dean as she pointed at the door. "Walk it off! NOW!"

"Fine! But if you're gonna go, Sam, then GO! DON'T be here when I get back!" Dean yelled before he stormed out of the house.

A moment later, the roar of the Impala's engine revved down the street and all was silent again.

An hour later, Sam, bag in hand, walked into the living room.

"Are you _sure_ you want to do this, Sam?" Missouri asked the young man one last time.

Ellen and Bobby were there as well, all waiting for his answer. Sam nodded quickly. He hoped no one could see that he was shaking. He had to continue to fight in this demon war and find Jo, yes. He just thought Dean would be there too. Maybe…maybe it was for the better. Maybe it would keep Dean safe to be away from him. Sam hoped so.

"Thanks for everything," Sam said after Missouri wrapped her arms around him. He didn't hug back. _Couldn't_ hug back. He was feeling a bit numb at the moment.

"Are you sure that Atlantic City is where you have to go?" Bobby asked, skeptical.

"Yes," Sam answered again, his voice monotone.

"Your brother and I have an exorcism to do. Then he'll meet up with you, okay?" Bobby promised as he hugged Sam.

Everyone went silent. Sam knew why. He didn't think anyone else believed Bobby either.

"Thank you for doing this. For helping me get Jo back," Ellen said to Sam a moment later.

Sam nodded again. As Ellen turned to Bobby to say goodbye, Sam headed for the door. Missouri stopped him before he stepped outside.

"I'll see you soon, dear. And the answer is no," Missouri said as she placed a hand on his arm.

"No to what?" Sam asked confused.

"Your brother will _never_ hate you. No matter what," Missouri answered.

Sam laughed, but it was a sound hollow of happiness.

"Remember what else I told you. _Please_. Your psychic abilities will present to you when necessary. Do NOT try and manipulate them. You MUST remember that. I fear what will happen if you don't," Missouri said.

"I promise that I will be careful. I'm sure that I've used up all of my get out of hell free cards by now," Sam said with a smile.

"That's the good thing about heaven, Sam. You don't need any tricks to get in. But God won't take in those who are not yet supposed to be there either. And I don't think he'll be ready for you any time soon," Missouri said.

"Tell Dean…" Sam said, but was unable to finish. How could he put into words what he wanted to say to his brother?

"I'll tell him you love him. And Ellen?" She said as she turned to the other woman. "You bring that daughter around after you find her, okay? Let _me_ be the judge if she's more beautiful than her momma," Missouri said as she hugged Ellen.

Bobby held open the door for Ellen and Sam and then stepped back inside with Missouri. Once in Ellen's truck, Ellen and Sam sat in silence for a moment before she turned on the ignition.

"Thank you for not giving up on my daughter," Ellen said again.

"I should tell you that I don't have much of a plan," Sam confessed with a small smile.

"Hey, people like us don't need much of a plan to get the job done," Ellen said, smiling now too. "Tell me what you got."

"We head for the Atlantic City boardwalk, about a nineteen hour drive from here. We stop as little as we can along the way. Look to find the psychic Gypsy. I think she'll be able to tell us about my mother. Hopefully, it will give us a lead on Jo. I do know one thing, Ellen. This has to end with me. My mom's spirit told me so, but I knew it already. When we find Jo, you get her out without looking back, you hear me?" Sam said.

Ellen, smile gone now, nodded. She turned on the ignition, but did not yet put it in drive. She had one more thing to say to Sam.

"Dean didn't mean what he said, Sam," Ellen said quietly.

"Yes. Yes he did," Sam answered. _That_ he was sure of. It was like the estrangement that had happened between him and his dad when he left for Stanford was happening all over again. And just like that time, words hurt much worse than any physical pain like Dean's punch could have. Without another word, Ellen drove them away from the curb and onto the quiet road.

After he felt at least calm enough to talk without yelling or hitting something, Dean sped back into the driveway and screeched the Impala to a halt. He refused to dwell on the fact that Ellen's truck was gone from the curb. Dean strode into the house and was surprised to see Bobby and Missouri waiting for him in the living room. Bobby stood and held out Dean's packed green duffle bag. Dean looked at it, confused.

"Go. I can handle the exorcism," Bobby said as he continued to hold out the bag to him.

"What?" Dean asked.

"You gone deaf all of a sudden? Get out of here. They only have a two hour head start on you," Bobby said. "That car of your's can kick Ellen's truck's ass any day."

"You both heard me say that if Sam made this choice, then we're done!" Dean reminded them.

"Yes. We both heard you _say_ that. Now you better mind your elders, boy!" Missouri said before her mouth turned up into a smile.

Dean looked at both of them and smiled too. Life certainly screwed him over in more ways than he could count, but friendship was not one of them. A moment later, he snatched his duffle out of Bobby's hand and rushed out the door. The Impala tore out of the driveway and was gone.

"I'm going too, Missouri. Watch yourself, I mean that. And thanks. For everything," Bobby said before hugging her.

After he left, Missouri looked around at her quiet living room.

"God? You keep them all safe. And tell me how am I supposed to get used to having an empty house again?" Missouri said with a sigh.

**The End (But don't miss the last story in this series, **_**Mind Games,**_** coming soon)**

**Thanks for reading and reviewing! **


End file.
